


Let the Night be Dark

by beforethedawn, ConstructFairytales, Destinyawakened



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #ItsStillBeautiful, Anal Sex, Blood, Blow Jobs, Family talk, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Gore, Hand Jobs, Hannibal has scruff, Hannigram - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Murder, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Sassy Will Graham, Switching, Top!Will, Will has a mustache, catty bickering, character death: not will or hannibal, disguises, enzo the dog, powerbottom!Will, powerbottom!hannibal, talk about babies, top!Hannibal, wound care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:06:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 56,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7697755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beforethedawn/pseuds/beforethedawn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstructFairytales/pseuds/ConstructFairytales, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destinyawakened/pseuds/Destinyawakened
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal are rescued by Chiyoh, only to find out she's been hired by Hannibal's uncle to retrieve them. Robertas' intentions aren't at all well intended, as they soon come to find out. Will they over come to find their happy ending?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1) No beta. Just a quick edit by us.  
> 2) No idea how many chapters this is going to be yet, we're still writing it!  
> 3) For the Hannibal creative event #itsstillbeautiful

“This is all I ever wanted for you, Will,” Hannibal whispered, his voice strained as he panted, his usually refined tone husky with exertion. Hannibal’s large hands, stained in just as much blood as Will’s, curled slowly, carefully around Will’s shirt to hold him upright, on the edge of the cliff.  Sand and rock eroded away like so much resolve with every soft crash of waves that almost seemed to drown out the thudding of his own hammering heartbeat. “For  _ both  _ of us.” 

Will finally met Hannibal’s gaze, blue irises flitting from black-tinted blood on Hannibal’s face to the dark amber of Hannibal eyes, overwhelmed and yet completely at peace in that moment as he finally saw it, the  _ beauty _ . The words that spilled from his red-stained lips carried enough meaning on their own; “It’s beautiful.”

Will reached his right hand and curled his fingers into Hannibal’s crimson stained sweater, leaning toward him, against him, holding him. Damp curls fell into his eyes, blood, sweat, and tears running down his face as Will leaned, forehead first, and then the rest of himself against Hannibal’s chest, slumped ever so slightly, injury taking a toll. His ear pressed to Hannibal’s chest, where he rested, waiting, taking a breath--taking a  _ moment _ \-- to feel the way Hannibal leaned back, the nuzzle of his jaw against Will’s head, his hands grasping him more firmly, drawing him in closer, even as Will’s arm lifted around Hannibal’s shoulder, left arm snaking around his hip.

An embrace, the last they’d ever have.

Listening to the thrumming of Hannibal’s heart, slowed now to the beat of the ocean waves below them, Will gave a silent plea for Hannibal to forgive him, but this was the only way, for the both of them. Somehow, he was certain Hannibal knew. They had fought together seamlessly, without words.  Their minds were linked, and there was comfort in knowing that Hannibal was likely well aware Will was going to take him down.

A reckoning long overdue.

Closing his eyes, Will leaned forward and to the left, and pushed Hannibal’s weight with his own, heels of his boots off the ground first, and then the rest of them, holding fast and tight as the world around them seemed to slow and yet speed up all at once. Will struggled to keep hold of Hannibal, and felt the sprinkle of salt water against their skin, approaching sea below, and squeezed his eyes shut for impact.

It was a beautiful way to die, after all. Hannibal could not dream of a more exquisite end than this: wrapped in Will’s arms, soaked in blood. In the eerie silence of the fall, Hannibal pressed his lips to the edge of Will’s lips. They brushed, in the barest of kisses, just before their bodies collided with the dark, rolling surface of the ocean.

Silence gave way to the roar of water that ripped the clinging couple apart on impact, as though the sea itself were jealous of their moment of union. Hannibal’s hands reached, blindly, through the depths, not for the surface, but for Will.

Hannibal struck a rock under water, hard enough to send red-black blood from his left side in swirling clouds that hovered for a moment before the waves pulled them away. Hannibal’s surgeon’s mind visualized the break of his bones with perfect, x-ray clarity, and the remaining air in his lungs escaped, in a burst of bubbles that floated toward the narrowing light of the full moon that looked like a flashlight in the dark, close to burning out.

Hannibal, airless, bleeding, and unable to manage the powerful strokes his swimmer’s body was usually capable of, kept reaching for Will, one hand out and open in the blue-black depths.

The force hurt a hell of a lot more than Will anticipated, and he swallowed more water than he meant to, hands reaching for Hannibal only to find he wasn’t there, so he swam to the top first, catching his breath, spitting out water as he hacked it out. “Hannibal!”

The only reply Hannibal could manage were the bubbles from the last air in his lungs that broke the surface twenty feet from Will, signalling the spot where he had sank, and was struggling with what was now a fractured arm, and broken ribs on his left side.

Will saw it, luckily, and began to swim toward it, the best he could The cold ripped painfully through his shoulder, but the longer he was in the freezing water, the more numb every wound and limb he had became. Will reached the spot where the bubbles had made it to the surface and dove under. His hands grabbed Hannibal by the collar first, and Will managed to get him up under his arms, and to the surface.

Hannibal gasped for breath, nearly unconscious, without air for so long that his suffocated lungs burned with a breath of oxygen. He opened his eyes and looked at Will. Even in the dark, even soaking wet, Hannibal recognized him as easily as he would his own twin. “Will, help,” Hannibal gasped, unable to speak very well, let alone swim. Blood pooled in the water around them, darkening the spot where Will’s arm pressed against Hannibal’s fractured ribs.

There wasn't a lot around them, only black water and cliff side, so Will tried to swim them both north a bit, hopefully find land or a bit of shore; his own body was starting to fail, running on  nothing but adrenaline. Looking around, he began to see a dim light in the distance that was growing closer.

Hannibal kept his good arm around Will, and did his best to stay afloat by kicking the legs he could not feel, but the world was spinning. Everything that was not Will was a cold, dark blur, as though Stubborn Will Graham was pulling him from the world of Death, and back into the land of the living. Will was an impatient Orpheus, who had leapt into the underworld itself to pull his beloved out with his arms, rules be damned.

Will breathed hard as the light got closer and closer, he kept them afloat, moving, wading, until what they saw was the side of a boat, not too large, and by the looks of it, not from the FBI. The boat moved closer, and stopped not far from Will. It was sleek, and dark, definitely not anything law enforcement would have access to, large enough to house a small living space inside. Chiyoh stepped out, in a long, dark coat and gloves, and looked at Will with a frown before she lowered a ladder into the water, and waited, silently.

Will would think about the convenience of this later as he dragged Hannibal the best he could through the water, and using all he had left in him to  pull him up the ladder, and push him out onto the boat floor, panting.

Chiyoh helped Hannibal onto the boat, then into the cabin space as Will hauled himself on board. She let Will follow into the clean, almost luxurious looking living quarters that looked like the inside of a very small, private yacht, complete with a double bed against one wall, and a modest kitchen.

“There are medical supplies under the bed. Help him,” Chiyoh ordered as she helped Hannibal onto the bed, then left to move the boat as a far from the cliff side as possible before the FBI showed up.

Dripping, Will stood bent over for a moment, and then slowly moved to gather the supplies from under the bed as Hannibal wrapped himself in a towel and blankets. He set the kit out on the bed, fingers shaking, breathing hard. “S-sit down,” Will motioned to the bed, he’d do what he could.

The boat began to move into the open water where it picked up speed, headed into the Atlantic. Hannibal’s eyes kept closing, but he forced them open, and looked Will over to be certain Will wasn’t hurt even more severely, and in too much shock to know it. Will’s face was cut, his shoulder cut, but he had suffered nothing life-threatening. Hannibal’s surgical mind triaged Will to a stable status, before he pushed himself up to look at his misshapen and bloody side, very aware that he had also been shot. “Cut my sweater off with scissors. Pack large gauze against the entry and exit wounds, and over the open fracture of my ribs. Then, wrap my ribs, and the bullet wound with gauze, firm pressure,” Hannibal whispered, breathlessly, looking at the first aid kit as he steadfastly refused to allow himself to sink into unconsciousness.

Will took the sterile scissors out of the package in the kit and started to cut the shirt off, slowly, carefully, and peeled it off Hannibal. He then took the gauze and packed the wounds, even if the gauze only seemed to saturate with blood the second it touched Hannibal’s side, and leaned Hannibal up against him as he wrapped bandages around him enough times to hold everything on. Hannibal would need a surgeon, but Will was hardly that. “Should I find something to splint your arm?”

“Long enough to go from elbow to wrist,” Hannibal slurred, leaning against Will much the same way Will leaned against him in Florence, when he’d been shot. Hannibal was breathing shallowly, in case fragments of his ribs waited like the rocks beneath the surface of the ocean to puncture his left lung if he breathed too deeply.

Will leaned Hannibal up against the wall, carefully, and stood, still dripping cold sea water on the ground where he stepped. He found a broom and broke off a long enough piece by cracking it on his thigh, and brought it over to start wrapping Hannibal’s arm with it.

“I’m hoping Chiyoh is taking us somewhere with a doctor,” Will murmured under his breath.

“I have a feeling that’s the case,” Hannibal murmured, his free hand wrapped around his ribs as he looked Will over. There was not much they could do about Hannibal’s injuries, except bandage them, which Will applied had already accomplished. Hannibal tried to stand, but his knees buckled, the gauze already soaked red.

“Just stay down,” Will said, and found bottles of water, not sure they needed it, but opened one and gave it to Hannibal anyway, and then went about cleaning his cheek at the sink where there was a small mirror.

“If I’m not wrong, we’re headed to a small island, off of the coast of Canada,” Hannibal murmured, and watched Will as he pressed down over the bullet wound with his good hand. “We’ll be seen by a physician there.” 

Thankfully, Will’s injuries were not life-threatening, but Hannibal did wish he could stitch Will’s cheek. “Apply pressure with gauze, come lay down.”

Will cleaned and put gauze over his shoulder, and then taped some to his cheek, for now. He stripped the rest of his own wet shirt off, and tossed it with Hannibal’s, exhausted. Will crawled on to the bed, and rested with his back against the wall, next to Hannibal, who laid flat on the bed. He looked up at Will, then reached over to touch Will’s bare arm with one bloodied hand. “Did you send us over the edge hoping for an end, or a beginning?”

Closing his eyes, Will sighed. “A little of both.” He wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason. Just that it was what Hannibal had coming, and also what they needed.

Now they could start over, if they made it.

Whatever the reason, Hannibal knew he would rather plunge into the icy water in Will’s embrace than step out of it, and stay on shore. He nodded, and even smiled a little, paler than usual as the gauze around his chest and stomach blossomed scarlet. “Would you mind fetching a towel, Will? I’m bleeding through my dressings,” Hannibal asked, as though asking Will to pass the salt at a dinner party.

Will looked over at Hannibal and then got up, fished a towel from the cupboard, and handed it to Hannibal. Will was numb, inside and out. He was never too sure what would happen, and though he half expected to die tonight wrapped in Hannibal's arms, he could have hardly let them both suffer the way they could have. Hannibal took the towel, and pressed it against his side with a wince, then closed his eyes. “Pain is a reminder that we are alive, that the most primal part of us is still awake, and resistant to sinking into the cool darkness of the grave.”

“For now,” Will said, shivering still as the boat moved and rocked through the ocean. He had no doubt Chiyoh would save Hannibal, but then be more than happy to kick Will right over board.  _ Again _ .

“For now,” Hannibal agreed, and looked over at Will’s face, gazing at him as he considered what a lovely last sight Will would make.  The boat slowed, and a shadow loomed next to the boat, as they pulled aside a much, much larger vessel.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Will said, still very much shivering and wet. They could both use facilities right now that this boat didn’t have. Will‘s brows raised as he looked out the window.

“Like what?” Hannibal murmured, faintly, as the boat dropped anchor to meet the much larger yacht now that they had reached deep ocean.

Will ignored the question, and peered out at the enormous, sleek-looking black and silver yacht. “This yours?” His brows raised with question.

“No,” Hannibal sighed, with an expression that indicated he had a guess or two about the ownership of the massive ship. The door opened, and Chiyoh walked in with a balding man in a white coat.   
  
“The doctor will see you on the other ship,” she said, while the doctor unfolded a wheelchair for Hannibal, and introduced himself, in German.

Will slid off the bed first to help Hannibal to his feet, letting him lean on his wounded shoulder to keep him off his own wounded side. “You can explain later,” he whispered, settling Hannibal in the chair, gently. Hannibal sighed and did his best to move without leaning on Will too much, then slumped into the chair and touched Will’s hand, softly. The doctor looked Will over, and deemed him fit to walk the short distance, then gestured for Will to follow.

There was a long, sturdy looking ramp between the two boats, held by a man on either side to stabilize them. Another man assisted the doctor in loading Hannibal on board, and Chiyoh watched with Will. “You fell with him. Was that your idea, or his?” she asked, with a sideways glance at Will.

Will had a blanket over his shoulder that he snatched up, and watched carefully as they rolled Hannibal up the ramp carefully. His sea blue gaze lingered over to Chiyoh, emotionless, as frigid as the air around them. “It was mine.”

“You may not have been prepared for what laid waiting at the bottom,” Chiyoh said, cryptically, and retired to the helm of the small boat, then left Will to follow Hannibal as he was pushed onto the deck of the large boat, now almost unconscious. Holding back the quip on his tongue, Will merely watched Chiyoh go and then followed the doctor and Hannibal, taking in all his surroundings as they went, deeper into the yacht.

The yacht was opulent, full of highly polished oak, thick carpet, and sweeping lines. The doctor brought Hannibal and Will into a bedroom with two beds, and helped Hannibal onto the bed that was covered with white sheets, medical supplies at the ready. He asked Hannibal a few questions in German, and cut the dressings away, sighed, and then nodded slowly at Hannibal’s  injuries and left the room.   
  
“He’s a trained surgeon,” Hannibal explained, drowsily, looking at Will. “He’s gone to fetch supplies and pain medication. He’ll attempt surgery on my ribs, they’ve made a small, impromptu suite for the purpose onboard…”

“Well, I had hoped he wasn’t just  _ pretending _ ,” Will murmured sarcastically, sighing heavily. “Here?” Will preferred to stay close, still unaware of who they were dealing with, though it was clear Hannibal knew.

“I have no doubt every effort will be made to spare my life,” Hannibal sighed, still breathing shallowly. The faster cadence of his breath made him sound as gravely injured as he looked, he had to stop every few words to take a breath, exhausting the air in his restrained lungs easily.

“Lay down,” Will said, and moved over to help Hannibal do just that, sure the doctor would be in soon anyway to patch him up. He looked Hannibal over, both of them pale from blood loss, shivering. “Are you angry?”

“No,” Hannibal whispered, honestly, as Will swam in and out of his view where he laid. He swallowed, and laid a shaking hand against Will’s chest, over his heart, wordlessly, and closed his eyes.   
  
The doctor opened the door again, assisted by what looked like two nurses, and spoke what would only sound like gibberish to Will’s ears as they pulled Hannibal away from him, and loaded him onto a gurney they brought in, very carefully. Hannibal laid on the gurney, eyes closing, and managed a soft smile at Will as one of the nurses pushed him through the door, and into the hallway of the strange ship they’d boarded.   
  
Will watched Hannibal as he was wheeled out of the bedroom and to a surgery suite, with a cold gaze. Nothing the doctor or nurses said made sense, and nothing he would have to say to them would either. He had to trust. He let go completely of Hannibal. “I’ll be here…” he murmured as Hannibal disappeared. Wherever  _ here _ was, or wherever they were going, Will hadn’t the foggiest idea ...

The doctor looked back at Will, and spoke to him, in German, then directed the remaining nurse to Will, who handed him a little cup full of pills. “These are for your pain, I will tend to your wounds,” she said, in a business-like tone.

Will took the cup and started to swallow them one by one, dry, and sat on the edge of the bed Hannibal hadn’t been on. “You speak English?”

“Some,” she nodded, and donned gloves. She sounded German, and peeled back the blanket over Will’s shoulders to expose his stab wound that bled through the gauze he’d put there earlier.   
  
“Have you been shot, or stabbed?” she asked, unrattled.

“Stabbed,” Will answered, and that was only because Hannibal took the bullet  _ for _ him.

She felt the wound carefully, and then moved Will’s shoulder a little after the painkillers had a moment to sink in. “Flesh wound. I will stitch. You are injured anywhere else?”

Will nudged his head to the side a little at the cheek one that was taped with gauze. “Just there.”

“Easy enough to heal, not so bad,” she said, pragmatically, and irrigated Will’s shoulder wound with sterile saline as she held a wide basin under his arm. “Any pain?”

“Not after those pills,” Will murmured, though it stung a little, that was the extent of the pain he could feel right now, sure it would all hit him like a ton of bricks later. “Who own this boat?”

“Robertas Lecter,” the nurse said, as she stitched calmly, suturing Will’s gaping wound closed in his shoulder with perfect patience. “I have never even met the man.”

“So he’s not on board?” Will asked, not even flinching. He’d had so much worse done to him by now that this felt like a walk through a candy shop.

“I’m not sure,” the nurse answered, and injected some lidocaine into Will’s arm when she noticed how much it bled, then kept going. “I was contacted to take the contract, this is all I know. Your friend is in good hands, I work with this surgeon. Very good, very expensive.”

“That’s good to know,” Will said quietly, breathing out slowly. “Robertas is...I guess you wouldn’t know actually.” Will had never heard the name before, but Lecter suggested relative.

“I don’t know, sir,” the nurse said, as she finished stitching Will’s shoulder, cut the ties and bandaged over it with clean gauze, then smoothed the tape down. “Now for the face?” she asked, and moved to peel the bandages from Will’s cheek.

Will nodded and made a face as the tape was removed from his cheek, pulling at the coarse hairs there. “Please, if you don’t mind.”

She pulled the bandages off, slowly, more carefully now, and injected the skin around the cut with lidocaine, then cleaned the wound and let Will spit into a small cup, and checked his teeth before she sewed the wound. “After this, sleep is best. After a shower, maybe?”

“Is that a nice way of saying I smell terrible?” Will asked, sitting very still while she sewed him shut. “I’ll shower and sleep, thank you.”

“You are covered in blood,” she said, factually, and mended Will’s cheek with delicate stitches, then clipped off the ends of the sutures, and covered the wound with a dressing. “Shower is through there, do not get dressings too wet. Careful, yes?”

“Yes,” Will agreed. He slid off the bed and walked around her, limping a little as he realized he must have hurt it either from Dolarhyde, or the fall. He got into the bathroom and shut the door.

Will stripped down, and got into the shower without so much as even looking at himself. He scrubbed what he could without getting the dressings wet, washed his hair, and then got out. There was a set of clothes laid out, and soft and comfortable, and they fit.

When he came out, the nurse was gone and the beds remade clean. Will crawled into one of them and fell fast asleep.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) No Beta!  
> 2) Quick edit by us  
> 3) this chapter is huge... like 11k words. fair warning.  
> 4) Like this? follow us on [TUMBLR!](http://constructfairytales.tumblr.com)

The door to the bedroom opened, hours later, and Hannibal was wheeled back in on a gurney, dressed in a pair of loose fitting pajamas. He managed to climb off of the gurney with assistance, and slumped down in the bed next to Will without a word. The nurses who helped him into bed covered him with a blanket, and left again, silently.

Hannibal laid next to Will, staring at him as he struggled to stay awake through the heavy sedative that was only beginning to wear off now. Will didn’t wake, but he did curl closer to Hannibal, scooting so their knees touched in the bed, hands still curled up under his pillow. Hannibal stared through half-open eyelids, and laid his now cast-wrapped arm over Will’s side, then closed his eyes and fell asleep with a heavy sigh as the motion of the boat on the water rocked them back and forth like a cradle.

*******

What felt like hours, or even days later, Will finally woke. He was groggy and sore, curled up into Hannibal, all but snuggled against him, his back to Hannibal’s chest. They had shifted together during the night, and nestled against one another, as though they had been doing so for years. Will stretched, but didn’t dare move if Hannibal was still asleep.

Hannibal’s broken arm was draped across Will’s chest, and his exposed fingertips curled gently into the fabric of Will’s shirt, as though to make sure Will stayed with him. He sighed heavily, and rested his face against the back of Will’s shoulder, nuzzling it as he began to wake. Sighing heavily, Will scooted back just a little against Hannibal, touching his arm lightly to get a closer look at the new cast. That had been his fault, after all.

“Good morning, Will,” Hannibal whispered against Will’s delicate ear, able to breathe normally, now. His usual smooth speech was back, no longer punctuated with gasps for breath.

Will felt like he slept forever and yet still not long enough.  “Mornin’, Hannibal,” he whispered back, and turned to roll over, facing the doctor. “You look better.”

Hannibal’s dark eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled. He swallowed as he looked at Will’s face, treasuring the thick drawl of Will’s low, early-morning voice. “Thank you, they managed to stop the internal bleeding. You look much less dire, yourself.”

“I was hardly in a position of life or death,” Will said, though it might have been a lie, had they not gotten help; Will had survived worse. He, testing, touched Hannibal’s side with his hand.

Hannibal’s ribs were tightly bandaged, a thick layer of gauze under his pajama top. “Four of my ribs have been wired back together from their fractured state. My lung was not punctured, very fortunately,” he murmured, and then tore his gaze away from Will’s pillow-mussed hair to  look at his cast arm. “My forearm was broken clean through in two places, but will heal well enough. The bullet wound missed major organs, and has been sutured shut, on it’s way to healing…”

“Good,” Will said, a little guilty. “Maybe not the best way to go out.”

Hannibal’s dark eyes gleamed with an amused smile as they searched Will’s bruised face. His sculpted lips curled at the remark, smiling as he had smiled the first time Will had made him laugh, in his office. “I’m aware that hindsight is twenty-twenty, but it is a pity that you did not have this flash of insight  _ before _ our plunge into the Atlantic, Will,” Hannibal chided softly, with no anger in his tone at all.  Hannibal almost held his breath at the way Will touched him, as though afraid Will would pull away if he moved too suddenly, and the enchantment that surrounded them like a fragile bubble would burst.

“A suitable death for us. They'll wonder, but they'll never really know what happened. I took the chance. Didn't I tell you there would be a reckoning?” Will smiled back with a dark glint in his eyes as his fingers curled over Hannibal’s hip.

Hannibal smiled, at both the words, and the feeling of Will’s fingers on his hip, his heart racing high in his throat at the touch. “Bravo. It was a masterful surprise,” Hannibal whispered, staring at Will’s face, so close.

“I didn't intend for it to happen quite like that, but…” Will wanted to be close, worried, and yet he was still angry enough about the past that he also worried about letting Hannibal in, again.

“But we toppled over a cliff side toward a sea that felt like a slab of concrete as it tore us asunder.”  Hannibal remembered the moment on the way down, and the feeling of his brushing their lips together, just before the shrill whistle of rushing air stopped, and the brutal chill of the rolling Atlantic swallowed them. It could very well have been the last thing either of them felt, a barely-there first kiss. “Does this make us even, Will? Even-Steven?” Hannibal asked, looking into Will’s eyes, as doomed as Faust.

“Do you think it does?” Will asked, considering Hannibal had left him to die that night in his kitchen, and honestly, part of Will had.

“I cut you open, gutted you physically just as you had gutted me, emotionally. I walked away, unsure if you would live or die. You embraced me, and pulled me off of a cliff, into the Atlantic, not knowing where I would land, or whether I would surface. I would suppose that makes us fairly close to being even,” Hannibal sighed.

“Only I went with you, you never went with me,” Will added. They weren’t honestly even, but he wasn’t going to argue the point now. Not here.

“Despite every effort not to stay with you, I was tethered there,” Hannibal murmured, quietly, and honestly. “Gutting  _ myself  _ would have been less painful than what came after.”

They’d never talked about it, and why would they? Too busy and Will never wanted to sit and chat. They were both here now, though, what did else they have to do? “Would it have?” Will asked. “You left rather easily. Made a nice life for yourself with Bedelia.”

“I attempted to,” Hannibal pointed out, softly, and swallowed over a hard spot in his throat when he remembered how empty it had all felt, “Bedelia will be the first to tell you that I was more obsessed with you in Florence, than ever.”

Will just stared at the doctor, watching him as he rolled his ringed hand over Hannibal’s hip. “Maybe it’s you who still owes  _ me _ , since I’m here now with you, and I didn’t leave you to drown.” He could have, he really could have.

“What is it that I owe you, Will?” Hannibal asked, softly, purring the question, his lips almost against Will’s lips as he enjoyed the familiar tension between them that nearly made the air around them tremble, and everything else go quiet.

“I don’t know yet,  _ Doctor  _ Lecter,” Will whispered, watching Hannibal’s eyes and then his mouth as they lingered closer to each other, just as they had on the cliff, the air hot and thick between them. “I’ll think about it.”

“Do let me know when you arrive at a conclusion,” Hannibal murmured, and rested their faces together for a moment, eyes closed. They were close enough now that they could share the same air when they breathed.

“I will.” Will watched Hannibal up close like this, glad he was no longer looking pale and on the edge of death. Though the doctor’s death was something Will had wanted once, years ago, he no longer wished that for Hannibal, and hadn’t for a long time.

There was a knock at the door, and after a pause, it opened to admit a large man who looked like he must be a butler of some sort. “Your presence is requested in the drawing-room,” he announced, with a thick accent, and laid out two sets of clothing on the unoccupied bed.

Will sighed, and nodded, slowly moving to sitting, though he hardly felt ready to move yet, he was sure Hannibal didn’t either. “Sure,” he murmured, standing to look at the clothes.

Hannibal nodded, but said nothing as the butler stepped out, and closed the door. He sighed, heavily, and looked at Will with tired amber-brown eyes. “This may be the first time in my life I am not eager to dress in anything better than what I have on.”

“Because of your injury, or because of your relative?” Will asked, knowingly, and brought the clothes to Hannibal, and started to dress himself first. He took the pajama top off first and then the pants, stepping into clean trousers.

Hannibal raised his eyebrows at Will’s words, and the way Will stripped in front of him, which was a pleasant distraction, even from the pain in his side. “I’d have to say a little of both. How did you guess we were guests of one of my relatives?”

“I asked who owned the boat. The nurse told me,” Will explained, sliding himself into the button down shirt and then slowly did it up. He looked over at Hannibal. “An uncle?”

Hannibal very, very slowly managed to undo his pajama shirt with one hand, and slid it off, with great effort as he eased the fabric over his covered wounds. “Yes, an uncle, one with whom I lived as a teenager.”

“Ah,” Will said and went to help Hannibal remove his shirt and then help him into the new one, even doing up his buttons for them, leaned over to help. “I suppose that didn’t go well?”

Hannibal looked up at Will with grateful eyes, and smiled a little at the feeling of Will helping him with the intimate task. “We did not part on good terms.”

Will raised a brow at that. “Couldn’t have been too bad if he came to help.” He got the last button, and  helped Hannibal to stand so they could get the pants off and new ones on.

Hannibal stood, and tugged at the drawstrings of his pajama pants, distracted and focused on Will as he did so. “He came to ensure he was the first to establish stability around his brother’s fortune.”

“You’ve had it, even being locked up?” Will asked, averting his eyes as he helped tug the pants off and then unfolded the pants off the hanger. Hannibal watched Will closely. They had been emotionally bare with one another already, physical nudity seemed anticlimactic, and yet, Will looked away. How American.

“My wealth is not subject to the whims of the American Judicial system,” Hannibal said, with a soft smile.

Will pulled the pants up Hannibal’s legs as he stepped into them, and let the other man do the rest. “I suppose not. If you died, wouldn’t he get the money?” He didn’t want to  _ stare _ at Hannibal, and for him there was no good place to put his eyes that were casual until Hannibal did up his pants.

Hannibal managed to do up the button with one hand, and then the fly, and arranged his shirt as neatly as he could manage with one useful hand, then reached for the vest, and pulled it on, very slowly. “No, I wrote him out of my will the day I turned eighteen. He was furious,” Hannibal explained with a smirk.

“So, now he’s just making sure it stays intact and not in probate?” Will hummed, and helped Hannibal with the vest and fixed his shirt a little. He’d not put on all of his own clothes, but it was a little much for his taste.

Hannibal’s eyes smiled at the way Will helped him dress, the domesticity of the act that nearly melted Hannibal from the inside out. “More or less. I’m certain he’s been watching the progress of my case, and did all he could to secure rights to my inheritance with any team of lawyers he could assemble. Bringing us here and paying to have us healed is proof that he was not successful.”

“He’s hoping for repayment for his efforts,” Will stated, doing up Hannibal’s buttons, and then put the tie around his neck, and started to fumble with the ends, trying to remember how this was done.

Hannibal stepped closer, and watched Will’s hands fumble with the tie, charmed and distracted by it. “Something like that, yes. Hold the thin end of the tie straight, loop the thicker end around twice,” Hannibal instructed, softly.

Will gave Hannibal a look, flopping curls in his face, and did as instructed, and set the tie down and smoothed it over Hannibal’s chest. “Do I have to put the rest of mine on?”

Hannibal chuckled, and shook his head, then reached up to smooth Will’s curls down, gently. Just touching Will’s hair like this made him breathless, a moment to live on for years, if he had to. “You look very nice, no need to add anything. Shall we?”

“Shoes,” Will said and went to grab the loafers left by the door, and brought them over. He slid into his and then helped Hannibal into his own, letting him using his shoulder for balance. Any touch they could muster, it seemed, and yet Will was hesitant.

Every touch carried with it a weight of significance now that Will had showed his hand, and a glimpse of his heart on the cliff. It was a moment of honesty Hannibal imagined Will would never have to live with after their plunge, and yet, here they were. Hannibal put his hand on Will’s shoulder, and stepped into his shoes, slowly. “Thank you.”

Honestly, Will had been ready to fall and stay fallen. Being here was a second chance he never thought either of them would get. “Sure,” he said, letting Hannibal use him as a crutch. “Do you want the wheelchair?”

“No, I can walk,” Hannibal assured Will. He much preferred leaning on Will to riding around in a wheelchair like an old man. He smoothed Will’s hair down for him again, and admired his face, even bandaged, as it was. “Thankfuly, our dragon did not maim both of your shoulders as we slew him. How is your shoulder? It’s dressed with quite the bandage,” Hannibal murmured as they made their way to the door, met with the tall butler who waited on the other side to show them the way to the drawing room.

“The nurse told me it was ‘just a flesh wound’, so it must not be too bad,” Will said, though rotating his arm hurt more than it should, but after so much repeat damage, he wasn’t surprised. He let Hannibal hold on to him as they walked, following the butler down a few halls.

“I’ll examine it for you, later,” Hannibal promised as he walked with Will down the surprisingly wide, luxuriously decorated hallways, his good arm around Will’s good shoulder for support. The butler stopped at a set of polished double doors, and opened them slowly to reveal a sitting room in shades of crimson and ivory with a beautiful view of the open sea from wide, sloping windows along one side of the room.

“Sir will be with you shortly,” the butler assured them, and gestured to a sofa, suggesting they sit.

Will shuffled them to the sofa, not too fast, and helped Hannibal down first. Then, he sat, never leaving his side, hands folded in his lap wondering if he made a mistake not finishing getting dressed in everything that had been set out for him.

Hannibal stared at a harpsichord near the window, which was obviously very old. He was about to remark on it when a door opened on the other side of the room, and another man walked in. Robertas Lecter was tall, and might have been taller in his youth, but still moved with grace, even though he used a cane in his right hand. The older man had Hannibal’s features: high cheekbones, and haughty good looks that remained undiminished by time with ashy, mostly gray hair combed neatly against his skull. One of Robertas’s eyes were green and the other a wolfish blue, which gave him an other-worldly appearance. More than any feature, the other man possessed the same indefatigable sense of style that oozed from Hannibal’s pores, and smirked at his nephew when he sauntered closer.   
  
“Well,” Robertas sighed, his accent a little more British than Hannibal’s but otherwise, nearly the same. “I was not certain I would ever see you in person again, Hannibal.”   
  
Hannibal met Robertas’ eyes, tense silence between the necessary steps of social niceties between the two Lecters betrayed decades of bad blood. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you,” Hannibal quipped, and stood without Will’s assistance, relying on his own stubborn pride to rise smoothly. “But here I am.” Hannibal extended his hand, and Robertas took it, then gave his nephew’s hand a slow shake before he turned his gaze to Will.   
  
“Please, introduce me to your friend,” he insisted, with an unsettling smirk.   
  
“Uncle Robertas, this is Will Graham. Will, my Uncle Robertas, the resplendent black sheep of the Lecter family.” Hannibal said, smoothly.    
  
Robertas smiled at that, showing a row of even teeth, and offered his hand to Will, “Charmed to finally meet you.”

Will stood and shook Hannibal’s uncle’s hand firmly, offering a little smile in return. “I’m sure the feeling would be mutual if I had been told more about you.”

Robertas chuckled, and ordered something from the butler before he took a seat in a chair opposite the sofa, crossing one leg over the other as Hannibal often did, then leaned back to look at Will properly. “Hannibal didn’t mention me?” he asked, as though injured by the thought.   
  
Hannibal gave his uncle a look in return, “I cannot say that I did.”   
  
“No matter. Hannibal and I are, perhaps, a little too similar for comfort at times … or so I’ve heard,” Robertas said, cryptically, as the butler returned with a tray of tea for all of them, with some food.

Will sat back down, and gently tugged Hannibal with him. There was an air between them that wasn’t pleasant, but he couldn’t quite grasp what it was yet. “Similar how?”

“Hannibal fancies himself quite the extremist, full of shocking surprises, an original,” Robertas sighed as the butler poured tea for Robertas first, then Will, then Hannibal. “He’ll die before he admits he idolized me, as a child. Of course eating one’s associates, I must admit, I had never given that serious thought. There are other similarities, of course: intelligence, musical talent, a penchant for metaphor and symbolism … physical traits.”

Hannibal shifted his jaw, just a little, and took his offered cup of tea with his good hand. “Have you brought us aboard to tell stories of when I was a child, Robertas?” he asked, crisply.

Will could see the physical right off, the Lecter side of the genes. Will merely kept to himself as the two quipped, taking in anything new he might get on Hannibal, but so far Robertas was coming up short. Will reached for the tea with a small grimace. Coffee sounded better, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“I brought photos, if Will is interested in them,” Robertas smiled, and beckoned for the butler to fetch and bring over a thick, leather-bound photo album, which Robertas handed to Will with a smile. Hannibal’s smile vanished, and he fixed Robertas with a sharp look. “ _ Unnecessarily _ generous of you, Uncle,” Hannibal murmured.

Robertas, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the moment immensely, and leaned over to open the cover for Will. “Ah yes, Hannibal at two years old. Not fond of clothing, as you can see…”

“What child is though?” Will commented as he went through the album, one page at time, like a scope through Hannibal’s life he might never otherwise have seen. “Especially a toddler.”

Hannibal as a child looked very serious, his dark eyes always focused with intense interest on something in the photo, and it was never a toy, sometimes a drawing, sometimes a book or a flower. He seemed to have only become taller as he aged. Hannibal grew as the pages flipped, into a sandy-haired boy who was joined by a baby that he spent most of the next photos holding in his arms, dressing, helping to walk as she grew.   
  
Hannibal set his teacup down on the saucer with care, and looked away from the photos with a far away look in his eyes.   
  
“Mischa,” Robertas said to Will, in a near-whisper. “She was a delightful child, beautiful, too. Not a day goes by I don’t think about her.”    
  
Hannibal became so perfectly still that it seemed he had even shut down the need to breathe.

Will flipped through the pictures of the girl and smiled. She was cute and lovely, and it showed that Hannibal had loved her very much. Hannibal was lucky to have had her at all, even for such a short time, but he wouldn’t say that now. Instead, he skipped through, quickly.

“She seemed spirited,” Will commented before moving on.

“She was positively wild,” Robertas laughed, eyes sparkling as he nodded, and flipped back for Will to a photograph of her, high up in a tree in a pretty dress, hanging like a monkey by her hands, and Hannibal, in a full suit, climbing up after her with a stern look on his face. “A spark of life in the dark, utterly darling, and rarely perfectly behaved. She was wonderful. Did Hannibal mention her?” Robertas asked, and looked at Hannibal who seemed fascinated by his teacup where it sat on the coffee table, utterly dissociated from the moment.   
  
“Occasionally,” Hannibal commented, without emotion in his voice, politely enough.

“He did once, but it was not a topic we discuss anymore,” Will said, pointedly, turning the pages again away from Mischa. As much as it was nice to see Hannibal wither a little under duress, Will wouldn’t have it not be by him.

“What was it she used to call me, again?” Robertas mused as the butler refilled Hannibal’s tea.

Hannibal swallowed, and focused on the tea, then smirked to himself. “Fat and boring?” he murmured, and bit the inside of his cheek as Robertas laughed hard, then nodded at Will with a smile.   
  
“She really did. I made the mistake of trying to confine her to her room for being naughty, and she pushed a little paper under the door with a very unflattering drawing of me, titled ‘Uncle Fat and Boring’.”

Hannibal’s eyes went wet for a moment at the memory, and he took a deep breath, then exhaled it, slowly, and rested his shoulder against Will’s, not saying a word as Robertas watched him crack, little by little.

The next photo was of a very, very handsome teenaged Hannibal with wide shoulders and a sharp jawline as he played the harpsichord, the light shining on his hair just _ so _ .

As the stories came, Will’s gaze got sharper and more narrowed on Hannibal’s uncle, not really minding the pictures as much as he was sizing the old man up. An easy kill, right through the jugular even, he was close enough. Will’s gaze met the picture though, finally, for a moment.

_ Before the monster, _ he thought.

“Handsome,” Will said, quietly, mostly to Hannibal.

Hannibal stole a look at his old photo, and smiled a little at it, at the perfect skin, his perfect hair. He looked like a photo out of a magazine at that age, utterly arresting. “Youth is wasted on the young,” Hannibal murmured, with a little smile at the picture.   
  
Robertas looked at the photo, and sipped his tea. “Ah, yes. A very flattering photo of young Hannibal. He did look so much like his father at that age, very handsome. My wife took that particular photo, he became one of her favourite subjects.”

Will’s gaze slowly raised over to Robertas, one brow raised in singular question. The other man’s tone was quite bitter, even if he did try to hide it, Will caught it quite easily. “Did he?”

“Hannibal’s father, Richardas, was the handsome brother,” Robertas admitted to Will with a charming shrug, “I prided myself on being more stylish, and told myself that was far more important, anyhow but  _ Hannibal  _ … Our dear Hannibal managed to inherit both, and that made him difficult to resist, as a focus,” Robertas said, looking directly at Hannibal, who returned the unblinking gaze.

Will merely hummed as he continued through the pictures, some just as lovely as the other, likely also taken by Robertas’ wife. “I can see that,” he said finally, cooly.

“A pity, she passed away a year ago,” Robertas said, with a sigh. “We had our rough moments, but, I adored her. We had some very honest discussions, near the end,” he said, looking at Hannibal, who did not look away.

“I’m sorry to hear of her passing,” Hannibal said, evenly, poker-faced.

Will set the book down, decidedly, and held the teacup in his hands instead. It seemed Hannibal had the knack for just taking and doing what pleased him. Clearly making his uncle angry might have been one of them, while getting his rocks off at the same time. Seemed familiar.

“Likewise,” Will murmured into his tea.

“This was her,” Robertas said, pulling out a pocket-watch, which he opened to reveal a black and white photograph of an absolutely stunning, young Japanese woman with long, black hair. “Just after we were married, before we took Hannibal in. Happier times,” he sighed, and finished his tea while Hannibal glared at him over the rim of his own tea-cup.

“She was a year older than I was, if I recall,” Hannibal said, off-hand, as though just recalling that bit of information now. “Did you not have to leave Japan to avoid some trouble with that?” he asked, as though unable to recall.

Robertas stood, cane in hand, and chuckled as he looked at the watch, then put it back in his pocket. “We left Japan because Murosake wanted to meet my family, and meet them, she did. If you will excuse me, my old leg is giving me some trouble. I will see you both for dinner, I hope?” he asked.

Nodding slowly, Will stood, hands in his pockets as the old man left the room, leaving him and Hannibal in eery and deathly silence. He paced near the window, looking out over the open sea. “Your uncle hates you.”

Hannibal sighed, and turned his head to watch Will as much as he could manage, then pushed himself into standing, very slowly, his painkillers well worn off by now. “Hate may be a mild word for it,” he murmured, and leaned against a heavy, stone table for a moment before he approached Will, near the windows.

Will wondered when someone other  _ woman _ might come along and take Hannibal’s fancy, as it seemed Will could only hold his gaze for so long, even if he did come lingering back later. He clasped his hands together in front of him, turning the ring on his hand back and forth with the other hand’s fingers. “You slept with his  _ wife _ .”

“I slept with his child bride who was a year older than I was at the time, which made her  _ eighteen _ ,” Hannibal admitted, reasonably, and stepped closer to Will, well aware of the way this particular doubt would grow quickly in the fertile soil of Will’s imagination.

“You don’t have to explain or reason with me, Hannibal,” Will sighed, settling his shoulders back, he didn’t look over at him. “We have pasts. We  _ had _ families.” Will let go of the ring, but it stayed very clearly on his finger.

“I was hardly hell-bent on destroying my Uncle’s life, no matter how he chooses to imply I behaved. His wife was a child when they wed, it was a marriage of necessity on her part, she was not as devoutly enamoured with Robertas as he was with her. I was an escape from a terrible reality for her, and she was an escape from my mourning,” Hannibal murmured softly to Will, honestly.

Will could understand that if only because he had found Molly the same way, they had both needed someone. Because time and again, Hannibal had put his fingers in his life and made it into a complete mess. Molly was a nice escape. She deserved better. “You were always pretty good at taking what wasn’t yours, what someone else had or wanted first.”

“Perhaps that is true, but you can see what my uncle is attempting to do, can’t you, Will? Divide and conquer. He can see, he has read with the rest of the world about our friendship. He sees now that I have someone whom it would devastate me to lose, and he hopes to keep us from becoming any closer,” Hannibal said, choosing his words carefully. As he knew, as Robertas could tell, Hannibal and Will were at a crucial, delicate point in their bond. A single wrong move, and it could fall apart, forever.

“He might be aware of what he’s doing, what he’s told us, but you are responsible for you past and actions,” Will noted, calmly, maybe too calm even for him. A storm at sea was often calm before the waves crashed and the winds blew.

“Of that, I am aware. I make no excuses, Will, only wish to offer context for my actions at the time,” Hannibal said, calmly, but without shame. “You know very well what I am.”

“Let’s hope the past does not repeat,” Will said, decidedly, and offered his shoulder for Hannibal, to walk him back to their room. “There are pills in the bathroom for pain.”

Hannibal took the offer of Will’s shoulder, and began to leave the room with him, slowly. “There is no need for the past to repeat itself, if it’s lessons have been learned.”

Biting his tongue, Will quietly walked them back, slowly, to the room, where new linens had been put on the one bed yet again, and their soiled clothes taken away. Will helped Hannibal into bed and went to gather the pills left with their names on them in the medicine cabinet. He set two into Hannibal’s palm, and handed him a glass of water.

“Thank you,” Hannibal murmured, and took the pills, the sipped the water, only able to hold one thing at a time, due to the cast on his other arm. He looked up at Will, over the bandage on his cheek, “may I examine your cheek?”

“Do you think the nurse mangled me?” Will asked, sitting beside Hannibal on the side of the bed.

“I have no idea as to her level of skill,” Hannibal said, and very carefully peeled the bandage off of Will’s cheek, then inspected the wound with a frown. “Large, wide-spaced stitches…”

“She seemed okay at it at the time,” Will said, but he was sort of out of it too. “Is it terrible?”

“It is going to leave a rough, large scar,” Hannibal sighed, and tilted his head, looking at it in the light as he touched Will’s jaw with one hand, tenderly. “I can repair it for you so that the healing will barely leave a mark, but I will have to do it now.”

“Would there be a kit in the bathroom?” Will asked, watching Hannibal’s face. He didn’t care about scars, personally, as he had enough of them from Hannibal and others that another hardly mattered.

“Quite possibly, likely under the sink, in the cabinet, unless you saw the nurse take everything with her?” Hannibal guessed, still touching Will’s jaw with a soft-eyed expression.

“I didn’t pay attention,” Will sighed, “She’d given me pain medication and everything was sort of blurry after that. I’ll look.” He stood, walking smoothly over to the bathroom, where he bent to check under the sink, and there was another kit there, likely for emergencies. He brought it back over to Hannibal.

Hannibal was sitting against the pillows at the head of the bed, and moved over carefully to make room for Will when he brought the kit back. “Excellent,” he said, and opened the kit with one hand, then managed to un-package and un-cap a syringe that was pre-loaded with lidocaine. “A little numbing…” he explained, as he injected the drug into Will’s skin in a few places.

It wasn’t necessary, but Will let him, watching Hannibal work with one hand and still do a much better job at everything than the nurse. Will scooted a little closer, hand on the bed beside Hannibal.

Hannibal managed to get a glove on his hand, then used disinfectant to re-clean the wound, carefully, and unpackaged a pre-threaded needle with a long, very thin suture attached, and began to put tiny, elegant knots in Will’s flesh, mending the cut very, very carefully, like he was re-stitching a tear in the Botticelli he adored. 

Once finished, he trimmed the ends of the sutures down, and inspected his work before re-bandaging Will’s cheek. “There we are, that will give a much cleaner result.”

“Suitable for you now?” Will asked, gathering the trimmings and the papers and went to throw them away, and then packed the kit back up. He’d keep the shoulder stitches to himself.

“You could have a million coarse scars, and I would not stop looking at you,” Hannibal murmured, honestly.

“I don’t have quite that many,” Will murmured, slipping off the bed and walking into the bathroom again to set the kit away. He came back, and stood, hands in his pockets. What Robertas implied earlier was still eating away at him, even if Will wanted to believe the best in Hannibal.

Hannibal did not have to be the empath Will was to see that Robertas had achieved his goal of creating doubt where there had been understanding, before. “Of course not,” Hannibal chuckled, hoping that Will would sit on the bed again, and rest near him. “Scars are, however, not what I see when I look at you.”

It was hard not to be near Hannibal after their ordeal, after all they had been through. Will spent three years away from him, and hadn’t missed him, until he saw him again and realized he had. He swallowed and sat down, still exhausted. “What do you see then?” he asked, entertaining Hannibal’s clear need to tell Will anyway.

“A teacup, shattered, and mended again with gold. Gleaming and stronger for having been broken. The Japanese have made an art of mending broken things with molten gold, finding beauty in the act of rebuilding,” Hannibal said.

“Kintsugi,” Will said quietly, nodding. “You think the tea cup finally came back together again?”

Hannibal smiled to himself, a little, that Will knew that he was speaking about, and let one hand rest against Will’s arm, just to maintain contact with him, now that he needed no excuse for it. “It felt as though it had, yes. When I look at you, Will, I see art.”

“You see a mended tea cup,” Will said, canting his head slightly, and did not turn away from Hannibal, or make a point to remove his touch, as they had come much too far for that. Will killed them, after all, what did he really have left? “Never to be used as fine china again. Or special guests.”

“I see strength and beauty in the place where once others only saw fragility. I see something rare, and splendid, as I always had, but like the velveteen rabbit, the rough edges of life have made you more  _ real _ , irreplaceable.”

Will ducked his head at that, licking the inside of his cheek at the stitches. “Irreplaceable?”

“Absolutely. You were unique when I met you, of course, but we have both been shaped and scarred by our association, torn open by our attempts to separate ourselves from one another. Every step in our story has made us more thoroughly suited for one another, less like those who inhabit the world we have both pretended to belong to. We belong to one another, Will. You are mine, and only mine; I am yours, and  _ only _ yours. For better, or worse.”

“Through strategic elimination,” Will said, jaw tensing for a moment. He had still not forgotten how Hannibal sent Dolarhyde after Molly and Walter. He sighed heavily and looked back up, at Hannibal. “What now? What do we become out here trapped on your uncle’s boat?”

Hannibal smiled to himself, sadly, still looking up at Will. “You’ve already thought of killing him,” Hannibal said, factually. “You thought of it over tea, I noted the way you observed his exposed jugular.”

“He would underestimate me. You, maybe not; your wounds makes you weak for the moment,” Will noted, and rolled his shoulder, though movement was stiff, he’d still have one up on the old man.

“Of course, my uncle is not alone. Do you imagine the crew of his ship, all of his paid employees and loyal butler would simply hand over control of the ship to us after his death?” Hannibal asked, and touched Will’s shoulder, gently, feeling the joint through Will’s shirt.

“The butler, perhaps, is a problem, but the rest could be bought off,” Will assured, especially if Chiyoh were around, who was very loyal to Hannibal. He cringed at the touch, the wound still very tender.

“The butler moves the way Jack moves, with the same self-assured awareness. I have no doubt he is heavily trained and does not serve only as a butler. My uncle has a propensity to ruffle feathers, in his old age, he would require protection,” Hannibal reasoned.

“Then we bide our time until we figure out his weaknesses,” Will insisted, seeing no other way around this, nor a reason to keeping them.

“If we encouraged to him underestimate our strength, particularly mine, that might be helpful,” Hannibal suggested, whispering the words as he shifted closer to Will, not able to tell who was able to listen to them speak, or how.

“You’ll need to heal enough before we can consider that, but I agree,” Will said, leaning back enough that his  back resting up against Hannibal’s good side.

“A few days rest will do wonders,” Hannibal said as he watched Will lean against him, in a familiar way, and smiled at the little gesture of affection, however slight it may be. “In the meantime, I will feign complications from the injury, enough to make them believe I could not possibly fight.”

Will knew better, he knew Hannibal could kill even know, just as he had come to Will’s rescue with Dolarhyde, even after being shot. Hannibal was a force-- they both were. Will sighed and finally gave in and crawled to the other side of the bed, and sat with his back propped against it. “Easy enough.”

“Perhaps it would be wise to make my uncle think we are not getting on as well as we are. His guard will be down if he thinks he’s succeeding in driving us apart, torturing me with the knowledge that he can poison my happiness,” Hannibal murmured, gazing at Will. Every little thing Will did was mesmerizing, the way he moved around Hannibal was different now, far more intimate and unguarded, no matter what Robertas had said.

Will's wall were up, but his guard was effectively down. Hannibal had a way of putting himself in there, even now, even with all that knowledge of his past. The brunet nodded,  slowly, resting shoulder to shoulder with Hannibal. “Are you suggesting I become chummy with him?”

Exquisitely aware that Will was laying next to him, Hannibal closed his eyes, their shoulders touching in an easy, effortless show of intimacy. “That may be a good idea, you had Jack convinced you would never run off with me, after all.” He opened his eyes slowly, and looked over at Will, at his heavily-lashed eyes. “Look at us now.”

“Jack will always want to believe I am the fine China brought out for especially occasions, and always under his lock and key,” Will explained. “He will always want to believe the best of me.” Best according to Jack anyway.

“My uncle will always want to believe the best of himself, including that he is capable of turning you against me with a mouthful of words and a very, very old photo,” Hannibal replied, and let their hands touch, the backs of their hands together. Even that sent a thrill of electricity through his injured body.

Will's eyes raked down over Hannibal as their touch seemed to make them both shiver. He nodded. “Ease my mind then, so I don't get lost in the act.”

Hannibal rolled onto his good side, facing Will, his pupils spread wide as he stared at Will, transfixed. “Is that a danger?” he whispered, and laid his cast arm over Will’s chest.

“I don’t want it to be,” Will replied, scooting down the bed a little more so they both laid there, gazing at each other. Will could be angry and unsure, but when push came to shove, he’d always have Hannibal’s back.

Very slowly, Hannibal wound his arm over Will’s back, holding him close, able to feel his heart speed up a little. Every gesture was loaded with meaning. Will rolled to his side, facing Hannibal as his was held closer, almost chest to chest now, hip to hip, his ringed hand on Hannibal’s hip where he’d put this morning.

“Neither do I,” Hannibal murmured, and took a deep breath, intoxicated by the scent of Will’s skin, by the nearly palpable beat of his heart. “We’ve only now become fitted together again, I am not willing to drift away from our togetherness, neither are you, from the way you pulled me from the ocean.”

“Not yet,” Will agreed quietly, content to stay like this, to converse quietly and close, just between them for the time being

Hannibal’s eyes crinkled softly when Will said that, and read layers of meaning into it. He was not yet ready to let Hannibal go, not yet ready to pull him any closer. It was a delicate dance they did, closer and closer by degrees. “I’ll endeavor to keep it that way.”

Will was still holding on to the threads of his pretend life, with his pretend wife and child, knowing that they would never see him again, nor him them, but it was hard not to feel some of their disappointment and grief that he knew must be coming, or had already hit. He’d let Molly down, though he knew when he went into this he’d never have another easy moment with her again.

“As you should,” Will murmured with a wary smirk.

“You enjoy keeping me balanced on a knife’s edge, don’t you? The thought of my waiting breathlessly for every moment of acceptance is amusing. I’m like one of your dogs, with a treat just out of reach, mine if I behave.” Hannibal asked, with a knowing grin.

“You’ve put me through so much ache, I think you can ache a little longer,” Will mused, a little  amused at how Hannibal didn’t seem to mind at all that Will would need his time.

Hannibal was a patient man. He enjoyed making wine, letting something beautiful age until it was perfect. Will was the same, in a sense, the potential of what could be had with patience was too magnificent to sacrifice for something rushed, something less than perfectly ripe. After touching nothing, and no one for three years, holding Will this way was incredible in it’s own right. “Another one of your reckonings.”

“Maybe,” Will said flatly, and then rubbed his hand over Hannibal’s hip, feeling the weight of his ring roll as he did. “Bedelia said you were in love with me.”

Hannibal’s high cheekbones flushed brightly, and for a rare moment, he seemed at a loss for words as he stared at Will, eyes locked, then looked away with a soft smile. “Should we escape this, we really must eat her.”

“I warned her:  meat was back on the menu, she won’t believe for a second we’re dead,” Will whispered between them, watching the flush darken Hannibal’s skintone just a pinch. He rubbed his hand over Hannibal’s hip, resting on his lower back.

Hannibal flushed a little more deeply, flustered for the first time he could recall from a very young age. He swallowed over a dry throat, and leaned in closer to Will, staring at him, up close. “It certainly is. How did this revelation make you feel?”

“A little lost, at first. Confused,” Will answered, carefully. “She asked if I ached for you, and I left. I didn’t know, but the answer was clear. It’s always been clear. No matter what you have done,  I’ve never been able to shake you.”

Hannibal’s ears rang with Will’s words, and he held him more tightly, their faces together, heat radiating from the blood rushing in frenzied patterns under his skin against Will’s as he listened. “She was right,” Hannibal whispered, breathlessly.

“I know she was, I’ve always known,” Will admitted, “I refused to see it.” Will curled his arms around Hannibal’s hip, their heads resting close together on one pillow.

“Is that why you came with me? Found a reason to release me from my confinement?” Hannibal asked, and had to steady one shaking hand against Will’s back as he looked at him. His expression was calm, but his eyes were shades of amber and honey around wide black pupils, alive with sparks.

“I had a few reasons for getting you out. I thought maybe it would be easier to take the dragon with you by my side. Get him far enough away from Jack so we could deal with him the way he needed to be dealt with.” Will sighed, he hadn’t known if it would work, but in the end it played out beautifully.

“Those were your only reasons?” Hannibal asked, quietly, curled around Will more intimately than ever, utterly, and totally content where they lay.

“What do you want me to say, Hannibal?” Will asked, quietly, searching the doctor’s eyes in front of him, still not sure he could say the same thing.

“All I have ever wanted you to say to me was the truth,” Hannibal said, softly, but swallowed hard, prepared for it as his dark eyes dwelled on the expression in Will’s.

Will had only ever dreamed of Hannibal whispering the words to him, never the other way around. He told Molly countless times, but out of necessity, to keep the glue holding strong on a life that would always be a lie. This part of his life, with Hannibal, was never a lie. Deceitful perhaps, but never a lie about how Will felt. “I have loved you for a while, but hadn’t realized it until I laid eyes on you again, in Florence. Part of me wanted a rip that part of you out of me, tear you down and walk away. The other wanted to run away with you.”

Hannibal’s usually exquisitely aware body went numb with the rush of chemicals from his brain, making him tingle from head to toe with disbelief as Will declared his love. His dark eyes went soft and wet, and Hannibal felt a new room carved out in his memory palace for this moment, for those words, for Will’s honesty.

He rested their faces together, eyes closed as he nuzzled Will’s face, and his burning lungs reminded him to breathe. “And now, you have…” Hannibal whispered.

However, Will's love did not mean all forgiveness or trust, but he was working on it desperately. He closed his eyes and curled his arms around Hannibal's back , retail on his shoulder. “Now I have.”

Will’s love was enough to keep Hannibal waiting for the rest. He nuzzled the side of Will’s neck, and pressed an almost chaste kiss against the side of Will’s jaw, lips lingering against the stubbly skin that he had dreamed about for so long. The large ship swayed around them, rocking them slowly where they lay in each other’s arms, in the middle of the Atlantic.

“It is, perhaps, an odd thing to say as a captive with broken bones, stranded in the middle of a frigid ocean without rescue in sight, but I have never been happier,” Hannibal whispered in Will’s ear.

Will’s eyes closed as the whisper swept across his ear and a shiver ran down his spine, causing him to curl in tighter to Hannibal. “Strange we would find ourselves having to rely on each other.”

“You and I together are, as Francis discovered, a far more formidable force than either of us alone. Together, we compound one another’s strength. Jack did one thing correctly, back in Baltimore, he put us together,” Hannibal whispered, nearly feeling sorry for his Uncle when he considered how well they worked together. “We have slain a dragon, Will, what does the world hold that is beyond our reach?”

It felt like the ending of a fairytale and the beginning of a new story all at once. Will felt the weight of his ring against Hannibal’s back, holding him there, closer and closer. “He’ll wish he hadn’t saved us.”

“I have no doubt he has hopes that I will sign an amendment to my own will to appease him if he keeps doing his best to divide us,” Hannibal whispered. He felt so connected to Will, so blissfully close to him right now that he was sure they didn’t need words at all. Will could likely hear his thoughts as they echoed through the shared rooms of their minds.

It was the connection Will needed right now to be sure Hannibal wasn’t going to fall back to old routines, that he wasn’t just another page, but then he realized Hannibal waited, locked up, for three years for him. Will opened his eyes and gazed at Hannibal, their noses brushing, and he leaned in to brush their lips together too. “I trust you.”

Hannibal’s heart pounded loud in his ears, deafening, until his entire body felt like a pulse. He moved closer, a hair’s width at a time, shaking, and pressed his mouth against Will’s, and kissed him slowly.

The stitches pulled a little as Will adjusted his head, sliding their mouths together seamlessly, his arm tugging Hannibal in closer, taking the leap they both needed right now. He hitched his leg over Hannibal’s hip.

Hannibal slipped his good arm under Will’s neck, and held him more tightly, his hand closing in Will’s curls as their lips locked together, so seamlessly and perfectly that it felt as though they were not only beginning to blur, but to fuse.

It was slow but heated, lips and mouths exploring the other’s, hands and limbs trying to find perfect purchase and grasp around the each other, that it all began to feel like they were one and had been all along. Will licked Hannibal’s bottom lip, coaxing just passed it.

This was what Hannibal had longed for from the the first moment he had locked eyes with the unassuming profiler, and swiftly plunged into obsession with him that grew into something more profound than simple lust and fascination. Will made the monster grow a heart, and that growth had been excruciating, at times. Will had caused Hannibal as much pain as he knew he had caused Will, but now there was only the beating of their hearts and the shift of sheets under their bodies as they kissed one another, every last barrier finally down like a crumbled glass wall. 

Hannibal moaned softly at the way Will kissed him, and tilted his head to suck at Will’s tongue softly, breathless at the taste of it against his own.

Will tugged Hannibal as close as he could, leg tighter over his hips, thought gently aware of all wounds. He pressed their chests and hips together, delving his tongue against Hannibal’s, feeling and tasting him, eating the sounds right out of his mouth.

“Will-” Hannibal managed, breathlessly, against Will’s lips, and being able to say his name aloud, between kisses sent a thrill of pleasure down Hannibal’s spine so intense it nearly hurt.

The empath hummed at the sound of his name like that falling from Hannibal’s mouth and kissed him harder for it, blood starting to run hot through his veins, flushing him bright against the white of his shirt.  
Will’s skin felt like it held back the heat of glowing hot coals to Hannibal’s hands. He brushed the fingers of his cast hand down the back of Will’s neck, and kissed Will more deeply, his heart thundering in his chest uncontrollably now as he tangled their legs together, kissing Will with raw need. Hannibal was a far cry from the perfectly calibrated, perfectly controlled gentleman most knew him as when Will kissed him. The only thing he had never been able to control was the way his heart, his soul _needed_ Will. 

Pulling back to breathe, Will kept their faces close, panting against Hannibal’s lips as he gazed at him, his own blue eyes darker with lust, pupils blown wide sure that he’d never felt this way toward anyone ever before. “Hannibal…”

His name sounded beautiful on Will’s lips. It always had, but breathed out in a soft rush with the way Will stared at him, it was incredibly alluring. Hannibal dipped his head lower, and kissed Will’s jaw again, where his lips had started this journey, then ventured down Will’s ivory neck, over the thinning path of stubble until Hannibal’s mouth rested against Will’s fluttering pulse in a kiss.

Will clutched at the back of Hannibal’s jacket, trying to hold him to that one spot as his skin crawled with goosebumps, still breathing hard, still tangled up together, wanting more to explore, but knew they were both with injury, and Will didn’t want to reinjure Hannibal. But, God, he had needed this for so long…

Hannibal had smelled Will’s skin here, but never  _ kissed  _ it, never tasted it. He sucked softly at the nerves he knew ran beneath Will’s skin, and then scraped his teeth over the spot, soothing the rasp of it with his tongue. Will’s skin was a revelation to taste, and yet not to  _ eat _ .

“You’re going to make it very hard to try and hate you,” Will whispered, groaning at the feel of Hannibal’s mouth on his skin, sure that he’d only ever dreamed about this.

“I should hope so,” Hannibal whispered against Will’s skin, and kissed his way to Will’s delicate, beautiful ear, kissing every physical landmark of Will’s beauty that had haunted him for years. “I should hope that the moment we are alone you find it so difficult to pretend to detest me that you melt into my arms, as I will melt into yours.”

There was no doubt of any of that not happening now that Will was wrapped up tight in Hannibal's arms, which felt of awfully like finding home for the first time. “Remain hopeful, you'll get your wish.”

“Hope alone is enough?” Hannibal asked, between kisses, unable to tear himself away from Will for more than a second at a time to speak. He leaned up, and kissed Will’s mouth again, vigorously.

“It has to be,” Will replied against Hannibal’s mouth, cupping the back of his head with one hand as he pulled him in, arching up into him, unable to get enough.

“Perhaps constant, private reminders will be necessary,” Hannibal moaned when Will arched up into the sensation of his body.

“Perhaps,” Will murmured, a groan passing his lips as he kissed Hannibal again, all tongue and teeth, like he couldn’t wait to have their mouths meet.

“I look forward to reclaiming you after every dinner, every tea,” Hannibal groaned, tempted to rip his arm cast off so that he could touch more of Will as he skimmed his fingers over the smooth small of Will’s back beneath his shirt.

Skin on skin contact made every fiber of Will blaze hot with heated need, hips rolled forward against Hannibal’s thigh. “Reclaim me?” he grinned, sea blue eyes meeting amber ones as their lips met and remet, over and over, unable to get enough.

“Would you argue now that you, or I, could possibly belong to anyone else?” Hannibal asked, and raised his thigh between Will’s encouraging him to grind against it. Every new sensation was as though he had never touched anyone before. Will made everything new.

A gasp escaped Will’s mouth as a shrill of lust spiked through his veins, boiling in his loins. He clutched Hannibal closer. “Never.” Even married to Molly, his thoughts went to Hannibal when he was left to his own vices too long. Hannibal always had a hold on him.

Hannibal cupped the back of Will’s neck with one hand, and dipped his head to tug at the button closest to Will’s throat, undoing it with his teeth and deft tongue as Will ground against him.

“I’ve had many dreams about this, but I never thought it would happen,” Will whispered, grinding his swelling groin against Hannibal's thigh as he bit the cannibal’s jaw gently.

Hannibal lifted his head from his spot against Will’s chest, and rolled onto his back, pulling Will over him with a kiss. “How many times?” Hannibal asked, breathlessly.

“Too many to remember,” Will replied very quietly, rolling over on top of Hannibal, careful of his side, so he straddled just his hips, and started to undo his vest slowly, and then his shirt.

Hannibal was breathless, his chest aching as it heaved, but pain was the last thing on his mind as he let Will undress his bruised and battered torso. “What I would have given to have known that,” Hannibal murmured, and undid Will’s dress shirt with his good hand.

“I didn’t think they’d be reality, or should be until now,” Will explained quietly, pushing open Hannibal’s shirt, but left it on him, then raked his fingers down his chest slowly, and back up again, through coarse hair.

Ribs be damned, Hannibal arched up a little under Will’s hands, into the feeling of his fingers, unable to resist, as he opened Will’s shirt, and tugged it off of his shoulders with one hand, admiring him. “I drew you, endlessly, as I imagined you were…”

Will discarded his shirt, tossing it on the other side of the bed, enjoying the look on Hannibal’s face to see him and be able to touch him with Will’s consent. “Imagined?” 

“When I dressed you before, after bringing you home, I looked at you with a physician’s gaze, nothing more,” Hannibal promised, ever the gentleman. He ran his good hand over Will’s chest, with a heavy sigh, “I would not permit myself to see or touch you like a lover until you chose me.”

And chose Hannibal he had not then, he rejected him straight out. Will let out a content sigh through his nose. “Here we are, me choosing you.” Will guided Hannibal’s hand over his heart, letting his palm rest there and feel his heart beating fast.

Hannibal flattened his palm over Will’s heart, and pushed himself up on one arm to kiss Will’s lips, well aware his ribs would ache terribly later for it, but he could only think of the moment right now, nothing else. “At last…”

Will bent so Hannibal could lay back down, and then kissed him hard, rocking his hips down against Hannibal’s, hip to hip down, able to feel Hannibal’s erection pressed tight against his own confined one.

Hannibal had been hard since the second Will touched his hip. Will had an effect on him that no one else ever had, or ever would, the mere thought of Will so much as flirting with him was enough to make his finely-tuned body respond. This was nearly  _ overload _ .     
  
Hannibal undid Will’s belt, slowly, grinding back up against Will as they stared at one another, locked at the eyes as the metal buckle fell open to one side, and Hannibal thumbed, and then undid the button of Will’s slacks, the pressure of his cock enough to force the zipper open on it’s own.

Doing the same to Hannibal, Will slid his hand down into Hannibal’s slacks, grasping as they rolled together giving him more friction. He kissed down Hannibal’s jaw to his neck, inhaling his scent as he wriggled out of his slacks and kicked them to the floor.

“Will-” Hannibal moaned, and arched, his hips straining to roll even harder against Will while Will kissed his neck, washed clean of any trace of cologne, only the scent of Hannibal himself remained there, and the salt of the sea.  Hannibal’s good hand stroked it’s way down Will’s beautifully bare back, slipping down to rest against his ass, caressing the smooth muscle.

Will groaned and moved to slip Hannibal’s pants off his body, crawling back over him, naked together, he grasped them both in one hand, gazing down over Hannibal, into his eyes, his own breath quickening with spiked need.

Hannibal’s good hand stroked down Will’s ass, squeezing the firm muscle slowly before it moved to his hip. He moaned at the feeling of them connected in Will’s hand, at the look in Will’s eyes at the touch of their most intimate parts. It was clear that Will had dreamed about this, almost as much as Hannibal had, and then, of course, hated himself for it. “All of those times you dreamed of killing me with your hands, was it this good?” Hannibal asked, and pressed his cock up, against Will’s, slowly.

“Never,” Will replied under baited breath, squeezing his fist around them as Hannibal pressed in, and kissed his mouth, biting at his bottom lip. “This is so much better.”

“To think we could have had this, years ago,” Hannibal moaned, arching up in waves now, fucking the beautiful contrast between Will’s rough palm, and the smooth, long warmth of his cock. Pre-come leaked from his tip already, streaking over Will’s skin, marking him.

“Would it be the same?” Will asked in a rough whisper, his breath starting to hitch with each  whip of his fist around them, his body rocking down against Hannibal. 

Hannibal’s eyes went half- closed, black with pupil, and he dragged his blunt nails down Will’s hip, to his ass, pulling him closer by it as they rocked against one another, creating sweet friction that would spark, if it could. “If not, I would rather wait for perfection-” 

“You have-” Will groaned, kissing a line up Hannibal’s throat, the scruff on his face rubbing against the other’s smooth skin. He rocked, rolled, and fisted them both, heat growing rapidly through his core. “Hannibal…”

Hannibal slapped his palm against Will’s ass as he tipped his head back, and his toes curled into the sheets, able to feel his body begin to heat like metal held to fire, going white hot in degrees. Will was the flame, and Hannibal could not help but feel his strength begin to dissolve as he melted. “Will-”

A shudder worked its way through Will as the sound of the slap resounded through the room. The flame in his belly coiled tighter as he pushed his thumb over the tips of this cocks and rocked his hips so their most sensitive parts rubbed just  _ right. _ “God, I’m-”

“Yes,  _ Will _ -” Hannibal gasped, as he gripped Will’s ass again, tightly. His breath came in ragged gasps, and he forced his eyes to stay open as long as they could, eager to watch Will as he came, hungry for the experience. “Please…” 

Will lost all control of himself as the pleasure spiked through him, and his hips moved on their own, over and over, friction causing the last bit of heat he needed to explode against Hannibal’s stomach and down his cock and fingers.

Hannibal gasped, and watched Will as he came, hot and thick all over him, which tipped him well over the edge. His strong hips bucked hard as Will’s come slicked his own cock, and with a stream of heated, rapid Lithuanian and Will’s name, Hannibal came in Will’s hand, lights exploding behind closed eyes as he experienced bliss like he had never known.

Coming down, Will slowed and pumped their cocks together a few more times and then let go, leaning down to kiss Hannibal’s lips softly. “Better than a dream.”

Hannibal slid his fingers into Will’s curls, and pulled him into another hot, slow, shaky kiss after he spoke, then nodded as their eyes connected again, panting and flushed. “Infinitely better than any dream I have ever had, even about you.”

Will breathed in and out slowly, nodding his head, lips brushing and then meshing together, unable to pull away. He’d always been addicted to Hannibal’s friendship, but now he was utterly entrapped. “Feels like a dream. The best dream.”

Hannibal nuzzled Will, and kissed his jaw, then his cheek, his forehead, even brushed his lips over Will’s feathery eyelashes before he kissed his mouth again, breathlessly. “If only I were not so gravely injured,” Hannibal whispered, lips against Will’s, adoring how plump and warm Will’s mouth was from being kissed so often.

“We’ll be extra careful,” Will promised, sliding his fingers down Hannibal’s injured side, not pressing, but feather light touches, a promise that he wouldn’t dare hurt him like this.

Hannibal took Will’s hand in his own, and raised it to his lips to kiss, sweetly, before he kissed his lips, again. “It’s hardly your own impatience I think is a danger to me, it’s my own,” Hannibal whispered, honestly.

“How terrible for you, Doctor Lecter. Finally given the dish you’ve wanted most and you’re stuck confined to bed,” Will teased, mercilessly, curling fingers over Hannibal’s jaw.

Hannibal laughed at that, and tipped his chin up, pressing his face into Will’s touch as he was caressed. “And you taunt me for it, how cruel…” he sighed, with sparkling amber eyes.

Will grinned, muscles in his cheek pulling at the stitches a little as he did. He rolled off Hannibal and went to get a towel, and came back to clean them up, gently wiping Hannibal’s stomach down, and clean. “I don’t think you mind.”

“Only because I plan to make up for it later,” Hannibal purred as he pulled Will back down to him, back into bed to rest against his chest so that he could hold him with his broken, and whole arm alike.  

Will chuckled and snuggled up against Hannibal on his good shoulder, and then rested his head against his heart, glad to hear it still beating. “I know you will. So I’ll take from you what I can now.”

Hannibal curled his arms around Will as tightly as he could, still sure that he would wake up from the most elaborate dream he had ever had, and find himself back on his cot in his cell, alone. “You cannot take from me what I will most willingly give,” he said, with a smile in his voice that gave it extra warmth.

Will rolled his eyes and snuggled against Hannibal, more than happy to rest here, curled against the man who had hurt him so many times in the past, giving him his complete trust.   
Will was  _ happy _ . Somewhere, through his long association with Will, Hannibal had caught a little of Will’s ability to feel what someone else was feeling, from time to time. They had blurred, and melded, and as a consequence, Will’s genuine contentment was palpable to the controlled doctor he curled against, like heat from an ignited flame, an oven element, ready to make a meal.    
Robertas would never know what hit him. 


	3. Save yourself, Kill Them All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) No beta, a quick edit through  
> 2) Lots of murder coming your way...  
> 3) Please give us a follow on [tumblr!](constructfairytales.tumblr.com)

The next morning, there was a knock at the door. Hannibal woke, still tangled in Will, sleeping more deeply than he usually did, dreaming vividly of cliffsides and swirling oceans that looked as though painted by Van Gogh. Will was still in his arms, lying against the uninjured side of Hannibal’s chest.    
  
A paper slid beneath the door, and large footsteps receded down the hallway, leaving the couple in peace. Will groaned beside Hannibal at the knock and blinked at him. “What was that?” He sat up, blinking, and noticed the note. “How personal.”

“Likely too polite to try to wake us, or intrude on a possibly intimate moment,” Hannibal murmured, and pulled Will closer to him with one arm, possessive and sleepy.

“Do we want them to assume that’s what we’re having?” Will asked, letting Hannibal pull him down into a snuggling against him again.

“Of course not, but we can have whatever we desire behind closed doors,” Hannibal whispered, his nose buried in Will’s curls.

Will hummed, curling a leg up over Hannibal’s hip gently. “To make it more believable, we might have to ask to part rooms soon.”

Hannibal groaned at that, unhappily, and ran his fingers down Will’s spine with a heavy sigh. “Conversely, we could kill Robertas today, and keep our shared room,” Hannibal murmured against Will’s hair, softly, chuckling. He knew Will was right, but he did not have to enjoy the idea of losing this so soon.

“I offered that idea yesterday,” Will said, quietly, between them.

Hannibal touched Will’s cheek with his good hand, and stared at his heavy eyelashes as they fluttered over azure eyes. “If we did, I may not be able to help as much as I would otherwise like to, but I will do my best.”

“I need to feel out the staff first, make sure I can take them too,” Will sighed, not sure they were really up for it yet, honestly.

“In a matter of days, I will be much more effective,” Hannibal promised Will, and kissed his throat with a soft, pleased noise, not at all looking forward to a separation, no matter how short. “Did you dream, Will?”

“I dreamed of oceans and blood,” Will said, gazing back at Hannibal with a little smile, touching wrinkles around almond shaped eyes.

“As did I,” Hannibal whispered, and let Will touch the lines that he had grown to tolerate on himself, and that Will seemed to adore. “You enjoy the evidence of my age?” he chuckled, and leaned his face against Will’s hand.

Will had his own lines, both of them not getting any younger. Will leaned in and touched their foreheads together, and then kissed Hannibal softly. “I enjoy every part of you.”

It was still like a dream, better than a dream, actually. He kissed Will back, and laughed against Will’s lips. “Even my greying hair?” He had a feeling that Will would somehow enjoy and revel in every mark of age upon his once-handsome face.

“Greying? It’s already there,” Will said with a grin, tugging his fingers through the short strands. He had very few of his own greys in his chocolate brown curls, mostly hidden under the mess.

Hannibal raised his chin a little, quite alarmed by the way he looked now after not seeing himself in a mirror of the first time in three years. The mirror was unforgiving in ways that a ghostly reflection in a glass wall was not.  “Not  _ entirely _ ,” he reasoned.

Will merely gave Hannibal a look and then kissed him again, slowly. “I adore it on you.” But Will would never complain how Hannibal looked, never did, and never would.

He was once the most handsome man in Florence, when he was younger, he wished that he could have met Will, back then. “Thank you,” Hannibal murmured with a sigh, and kissed Will’s lips again, then touched a tiny thread of grey in Will’s hair, at his temple. “I suppose some can wear it well.”

“You look very distinguished,” Will insisted, curling in against Hannibal, closer. If anything, Will almost preferred him like this.

Hannibal held Will close, his vanity sufficiently polished with the compliment and reassurance. “I had it cut very short to prevent it from becoming unkempt without styling aids. Apparently, I am capable of murdering a man with a fine-toothed comb, or so I am told.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Will teased, and smoothed down the short hair gently with one hand. “You’re very cunning.”

“Thank you, my darling,” Hannibal whispered with a little smile in his eyes, and kissed the side of Will’s throat. “Shall we see if breakfast has been offered?” he asked, Will, and nuzzled the gauze on Will’s cheek, gently. He was able to smell that it was healing perfectly.

Will hummed and slowly got up--still naked-- and out of bed. He padded to the door and picked up the note, handing it to Hannibal, while he went to relieve himself in the bathroom.  Hannibal watched Will walk around like that with a soft smile, and then unfolded the note with one hand, and read it.

“Brunch in the dining room,” Hannibal told Will, and set the little note aside, then sat up slowly. He ached, of course, but the physical pain of his injuries was a mere background hum compared to the bliss he felt at being with Will, like this. 

“Brunch with a side order of guilt for you?” Will asked, coming back out and looking around for his boxers, and noticed clean clothes in the drawers, nothing quite as fancy.

Hannibal laughed at the idea, already beginning to dress for brunch, in a pair of pale gray pants and an ice blue shirt that contrasted sharply with the warm tones of his skin. “I will do my best.”

Will slid on khakis and a green sweater, and smiled over at Hannibal, and then went to help him into the shirt with his cast, buttoning it up for him. “Let’s remember to be two steps ahead of him.”

“At least two, if not three,” Hannibal said, staring at Will as he helped him with the shirt, before he leaned in closer and gave him an impulsive kiss on the lips, simply because he could, now. 

Will smiled against Hannibal’s mouth and finished buttoning up his shirt for him, and then pressed his palms down his chest to flatten it. “Agreed.”

“Very well. You are angry, I am penitent and upset, we have our roles,” Hannibal murmured, and stole one last kiss from Will’s lips before he went to the door, and opened it with a sigh. “Shall we?”

Will slipped into his shoes and nodded, already feeling the stinging cold of not having Hannibal at his side. He set his shoulders back, and walked out ahead of him, just a few paces, keeping the air chilly around them as they walked to the dining room.

Hannibal walked behind Will, watching his back with familiar longing, and sighed as he limped a little more than necessary, letting the physical pain sink in, letting it register through all of his dissociative defences as they made their way into the elegant dining room full of sunlight, where Robertas sat at the head of the table. 

“Ah, you’ve made it. Good morning,” the older Lecter said.

“Mornin’,” Will said, hands behind his back as he walked in and then  pulled a chair out to sit down, not offering to help Hannibal as he usually might, keeping their distance frigid. Hannibal sat down with difficulty, and nodded his good morning to his uncle, looking exhausted and haggard, for once. 

“A restful evening?” Robertas asked, as he sipped coffee, and looked between his two guests.    
  
“Perfectly,” Will answered as coffee was set in front of him, to which he added just a little sugar and stirred thoughtfully, glaring over at Hannibal.

“Splendidly,” Hannibal agreed, with a furtive look at Will as he spooned his sugar into his coffee. Hannibal accepted his own cup of coffee, and took a sip of it, immediately.

“How nice to see. I trust your accommodations are comfortable?” Robertas asked, and Hannibal looked up at Will, tension in his throat and shoulders as he did, dreading something Will might say in reply. 

“They are,” Will said after a mouthful of coffee, eyes on Hannibal for a moment, flitting to Robertas. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but would there happen to be an extra room?” Hannibal’s throat tightened visibly, and his shoulders sank before he looked away, saying nothing as his eyes unfocused, as though he went somewhere else, mentally.

“Certainly, I can arrange for something more appropriate immediately,” Robertas said, and beckoned his butler close, murmuring to him in Lithuanian. The tall, wide-shouldered butler nodded, and departed at once, out of the room. “I’ve asked him to prepare a room for you on the other side of the hallway, you’ll have a lovely view of the sunrise, I hope early morning light is not troublesome for you?”

“Not at all. I’m used to getting up early and fishing,” Will replied, leaning over on the table with his elbows, drinking his coffee leisurely. Across from him he could all but feel Hannibal’s disappointment, and though he knew they were pretending, he couldn’t help but press his toes against Hannibal’s. Hannibal kept his face somber, but dignified. Under the table, however, he brushed his foot against Will’s ankle, in a hidden caress.

“Lovely, after brunch you are welcome to head directly to your new suite. I’m terribly sorry for any-” Robertas looked at Hannibal over his cup as three plates of food were brought out from the kitchen and set before the men, “regrettable circumstances.”

“We all make our own choices, it’s the consequences that are regrettable,” Will said, looking down at the lovely brunch set before him, and dove into the sausage first, but never moved his foot.

Hannibal gave Will a cold look at the comment, and sipped his coffee again, with a shift of his jaw that made it appear he was clenching it. “No matter how long ago those choices were made, apparently,” he said, softly.

Will merely smiled around his mug and took another sip of coffee before he shoved more food into his mouth, mindful of the stitches on the inside of his cheek. “It’s not like you’re regretful about them.”

Hannibal tore a piece of croissant with his fingers, and smeared some preserves over it. “I have said the contrary, many times, Will.”

“Your word against your past,” Will sniped, setting his coffee down to eat the rest of his brunch, though honestly it was the first thing he’d put on his stomach since they were brought on.

Hannibal, likewise, was starving, but made certain to eat sparingly, as though too stressed to manage much on an unsettled stomach. “No matter how long-distant? Given enough digging, everyone has a secret they’d rather remained private,” Hannibal reasoned.

“Would you have preferred your past tussles remained private, Hannibal?” Will asked, brows knit together slightly as he set his fork down and watched the other man over the table. Robertas sat back with a little smile, watching Hannibal suffer, watching him lose what was most precious to him. 

Hannibal met Will’s gaze, and took a deep breath, emotions hidden barely under the surface. “That was all they were,  _ past _ indiscretions with no bearing on the present.”

“Then I’ll keep my own to myself as well,” Will said,  turning the ring on his finger, but never taking it off, and ate a little more of his eggs with toast.

Hannibal watched Will with a dark gaze, and seemed to forget Robertas was there. “You imagine I don’t know about them?” Hannibal asked, leaning his good arm on the arm of his chair, trying to support himself.

“You don’t know everything,” Will said, who happened to leave out parts of his journey to Hannibal in Florence, about Chiyoh. “Not about me.”

“Perhaps this is a conversation better had after brunch,” Hannibal said, quite aware Robertas was listening. Under the table, he kept resting his foot against Will’s, quite comfortably.

Will tapped Hannibal's foot three times, and then nodded his head. “Perhaps it is.”

“By all means,” Robertas smiled, waving for his butler to take his dish for him as he leaned back in his chair with a coffee in hand. “Don’t mind me.”

Will let his plate be taken and his coffee refilled. “We wouldn’t dare impose that on you, Robertas.”

Hannibal had barely touched his food, and allowed the butler to collect it, then stood, slowly. “If you will excuse me, I don’t seem to have an appetite. My apologies,” he nodded, and walked out, slowly, obviously in pain.   
  
Robertas watched Hannibal leave, then looked at Will with a smile. “How he detests suffering the consequences for his actions…”

Will hid the heartache he felt having to watch Hannibal go, but turned his gaze back to the older Lecter. “Don’t we all?”

“I’m quite aware that he was married while in Florence,” Robertas sighed, sympathetically.

Will huffed a chuckle at that. “It wasn’t a real marriage. They assumed the identities of another couple that was married. Hardly legal.”

“I’m sure that did not stop them from consummating the union,” Robertas said, in a pitying tone, whispering the words.

“Haven’t we all been known to have a pityfuck now and then?” Will asked, shrugging his shoulders, and part of him tried not to take any of that to heart.

Robertas laughed at the American, wholeheartedly, and nodded his head as he clapped, slowly. “Difficult to say who pitied whom…”

“She swears she was his captive, so…” Will gave another shrug, and picked up his refilled coffee once again and added a little more sugar.

“Ms. Du Maurier is hardly a simple woman, she knows very well how to manipulate and frame someone like Hannibal, how the public might perceive a more sophisticated truth,” Robertas said, sipping his own coffee. “Her insights have been invaluable while attempting to contact and re-unite with my wayward nephew.”

Will’s gaze darkened on the other man, shifting his jaw. “You’ve been in contact with her?” He rubbed a hand down his stubbled jaw. “I’m sure she spewed a load of garbage at you. She does that, she spins shit into gold.”

“No need for vulgarity, Mr. Graham,” Robertas said, and stood with his cane in hand, gracefully. “Would you mind a little walk around the ship with me? Sitting too long is tedious.”

“My apologies,” Will said, halfhearted, and stood with one easy stride, and was next to Robertas quickly. “It’d be my pleasure.”

Robertas and Will headed out a large glass door to the wide deck above the waves of the ocean, and strolled slowly. “Thank you. Age is a privilege denied to many, but it does come with it’s costs. How are your own war wounds?”

Will walked slowly beside Hannibal’s uncle, hands clasped behind his back, casually. “They aren’t the worst I’ve endured, I think I got lucky where I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m curious, if you will forgive me, about the scar on your forehead. It is unusually straight,” Robertas said, able to see it through Will’s hair as the ocean breeze blew his curls out of the way.

Will had a feeling Robertas knew, but he played into it just the same. “It’s from a bonesaw. Someone thought he’d drug me and attempt to eat my brain. He didn’t get very far.”

“What stopped him, his own good sense?” Robertas asked as they rounded a corner of the large ship, headed toward another set of doors that led back inside.

“We were stopped by the Italian police, and shipped off to Mason Verger’s farm in the states,” Will explained, matter of factly. “I think he had time to regret his choices hanging upside down next to me like a slaughtered pig.”

“One would hope,” Robertas sighed, and pushed one of the glass doors open to reveal a beautiful, but small library, where a woman with blond hair sat with her back to them, a glass of wine in one hand, a book in the other.

Will knew the scent of her perfume from just seeing her less than three days prior. He rolled his eyes behind both of them, before stepping into view. “Why am I not surprised to see you here, Bedelia? Come to make sure you don’t end up on the wrong side of the carving knife?”

Bedelia turned in the chair, alarmed to see Will, and stood, shooting an angry glance at Robertas, who spread his hands in response. “Mea Culpa. I could not resist. He is quite disillusioned with my nephew, Ms. DuMaurier, nothing to fear.”

“I was not told that I would have to endure another meeting with you,” Bedelia said to Will, stiffly, chin raised high, blue eyes cold.

“Believe me, Bedelia, I’m no more happy to see you then you are me,” Will replied, all too casually, and moved around the room, hands still clasped behind him. “But one does have to wonder why exactly you are on board the ship that just  _ happened _ to pick Hannibal and I up? You really don’t learn your lesson easily, do you?”

Bedelia stood, and shifted from foot to foot, and glowered at Will over her wine glass. “Speaking of lessons, are you really eager to run off with Hannibal Lecter, Will? How do you imagine that will end? History is the best predictive element for future behavior…”

“I didn’t intend for us to live through the ordeal. Circumstances worked in our favor rather than against us. So, here I am. Although, I can’t wait to see  _ your _ reunion with Hannibal. You were pretty shaken the last time we spoke,” Will said, not looking at her as he studied the room, pacing it.

Bedelia took a shaky sip of her wine, and watched Will, then licked her own lips and swallowed, a frown creasing her elegantly pale forehead. “That will not happen,” she said, enunciating the words slowly, and clearly.

“Won’t it?” Will asked, turning his attention to Robertas. “Why bring her if there was no intention?” He raised his brows toward the older man and then back to Bedelia. “You’re white as a ghost, Bedelia. Surely you’re not afraid after living with him for nearly a year.”

“Dr. Du Maurier was brought on board as a resident psychiatrist, a necessity when dealing with my nephew, as I’m certain you’ll agree. I consider her the definitive expert on my nephew’s slippery mind,” Robertas said, admiringly.

“And I was  _ guaranteed _ that no face to face contact with Hannibal would be required. I seemed to have neglected to stipulate I desired no contact with you, either,” Bedelia murmured into her drink, emptying it quickly as she kept her eyes on Will at all times.

Will burst into laughter that went on for a minute or so before it died down and he shook his head, looking at Robertas. “She might know Hannibal well because she treated him for so long, but she’s refused any interaction with him in three years. People change. Three years locked up, he’s not the same, Bedelia. You don’t know him, I doubt you ever did.”

Bedelia stepped closer to Will, glaring at him as she looked down her nose at Will’s smug expression. “Hannibal is not as malleable as you are, Will. His mind is marble and granite, not  _ putty _ . I know Hannibal so well that it bothers you. That is well enough,” she said, pouring another glass of wine.

Will smirked, her words hardly meant anything to him now, and raised his brows toward Robertas, and then back to Bedelia.“Well enough that you should have known better than to come on board a ship where Hannibal Lecter would be. Wounded, or not.”

“I have been mauled by a lion, should I never again visit a zoo? The beast is resting, distracted. I have nothing to fear,” she said, defensively, and shot Robertas another look for letting Will in, then took a drink of wine, her lips pursing hard as she tried to look unbothered.

“You’ve hardly been mauled, Doctor DuMaurier,” Will said, looking her over. “Of everyone you’re the only one left unscarred, and  _ that _ is a dangerous thing to live with.” Will pressed his lips together, and turned to the older Lecter. “I’ll take my leave unless you needed something.”

Bedelia looked furious at Will, her nostrils flaring, her fingers tight around the stem of her glass. “Consider, Will, that if you tell him I’m here, he may decide he craves my company more than yours. He hasn’t seen me in three years. It’s very possible I have come back into  _ vogue _ ,” she snapped.

“You have always been the second choice, and only because you placed yourself in the position to be that. No one forced your hand. You were curious what would happen, and you happened to be convenient at the time,” Will said, knowingly, taking a few strides over to Bedelia, ignoring Robertas all together, hands in his pockets. “You’ve made gobs of money and fame off of him; you are no better than Frederick Chilton, and we all know what happened to Frederick Chilton, don’t we, Bedelia?”

“Yes, YOU happened to Frederick Chilton! You put your hand on his shoulder in that photograph and sealed his fate as well as if you’d struck the match!” Bedelia retorted, snapping at Will over her increasingly neglected wine. “Are you _ threatening _ me?” she asked, with a shaky mixture of bravado and outrage.

Will’s face lit up a dark smile. “I guess we’ll have to see. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check out the rest of the boat.” He nodded at Robertas and excused himself from the room, the way they came in. Will would deal with Bedelia, with or without Hannibal.

Slowly, he walked back toward the hallway with the rooms, and checked on his new room, and then knocked lightly on Hannibal’s door.

Hannibal moved to the door, slowly, and opened it, his expression changing when he saw that it was Will, and not his uncle. “Tour over?”

“I called it off early. He’s got an unexpected guest on board,” Will said, slipping into the room, shutting the door behind them.

Hannibal frowned, and locked the door with a flick of his fingers. “Oh?”

“I’m not so sure I want to tell you though,” Will sighed, leaning up against the door.

“Why not?” Hannibal asked, his frown engraving itself into Hannibal’s elegant features more deeply with Will’s answer. He moved closer to Will, smoothly now that they were alone, and rested one hand against Will’s neck, adoringly.

“Because of your past. Though I’m sure you won’t mind eating her,” Will suggested, leaning into Hannibal’s touch.

“You look as though you’ve just argued,” Hannibal sighed, and stroked his hand up to Will’s jaw, “I can only presume my Uncle found a way to bring Bedelia aboard?” he asked with a little sigh. Bedelia riled Will’s temper like the neighborhood cat who enjoyed strolling in front of windows to taunt a dog shut indoors on a nice day.

“Brought her on board to get inside your head. Because she apparently knows you  _ best _ ,” Will said, his jaw tense just on thinking about it. “She thinks, well, she wants to think, that you’ll want her over me.”

Hannibal chuckled as though Will told a witty joke, and then stopped when he realized Will did not find that funny. “That is an utterly ridiculous notion. She’s clearly let her newfound fame go to her peroxide-treated head.”

“I basically told her that. She got very snippy. I might have threatened her, off handedly,” Will sighed, and looked at Hannibal, and finally pulled him closer, caging himself against the door.

Hannibal nuzzled Will’s handsome, flushed face, and kissed his mouth slowly, winding their tongues together intimately before he pulled back enough to whisper. “You are supposed to allow them to assume you are harmless, my savage dear.”

Will smiled a little against Hannibal’s mouth, eyes half closed. “Bedelia knows I’m hardly harmless. You uncle would have been told, but they won’t expect me to do it myself. Always by means of influence.”

Hannibal smirked, and kissed Will’s cupid’s bow, then his lower lip, and then his mouth entire, again. “You are lovely when you have been riled into a fury,” he whispered against Will’s lips, between slow, deep kisses.

Will’s fury was like fire, passionate and unwavering. He tugged Hannibal just a little closer, hand roving up his good side as his head canted to lock their lips together perfectly, kissing with lashing of his tongue, pouring the fury into the kiss.

Hannibal moaned, and pulled Will closer to him by his belt, then kept him there with one palm closed in the fabric of Will’s shirt, and his cast arm around Will’s shoulders. He pinned Will to the wall behind him with his hips, and sucked Will’s tongue, slowly and suggestively, fanning the flames. “Do you fear she is right?”

“Do I have reason to?” Will asked between heated, longing kisses, utterly trapped by Hannibal, but in hurry to free himself from the cannibal’s firm grasp, happily placed there.

“Not in the slightest, not in any universe,” Hannibal whispered ardently and palmed Will’s ass with his hand, then began to kiss his way down Will’s stubbly throat to his adam’s apple, which Hannibal scraped his teeth over.

“Good,” Will said plainly, but with a hitch of breath in his voice, hands moving up to work Hannibal’s shirt buttons undone, just enough to touch his hairy chest again.

“You like my chest?” Hannibal whispered, softly, and pulled Will back toward the bed as he was undressed. He’d taken the bandages off today, all except a small strip that he used to cover the surgical incision. He was covered in bruises that collected like storm clouds under bronze skin, but didn’t flinch at Will’s hands.

Hannibal had only ever been buttoned up tight to Will, and seeing what he wanted of him, and being able to touch was one of the best things he never knew he was without. He slipped off his wedding band and put it into his pocket for now, not needing it here. He gently pushed Hannibal down onto the bed, and crawled over him carefully, and undid the last of the buttons on his shirt. “I do.”

Those two words on Will’s lips were particularly arousing, considering what Freddie called them in the press. “Did you expect me to be quite as hairy as I am?” Hannibal asked with a little smirk and shrugged one side of his shirt off, determined to be utterly bare with Will this time. He undid Will’s shirt, one handed, popping the buttons undone.

Will helped Hannibal out of his shirt, raking hands down his chest, over nipples. “No. I’m pleasantly surprised.” Will never knew he had a thing for hairy until he saw it on Hannibal, and now he couldn’t get enough.

“More beastly than I appear…” Hannibal chuckled, and yanked Will’s shirt off of his shoulders, managing to move a couple fingers of his damaged arm to do so, breathing hard. His nipples were already perked under the hair, and Will’s fingers sent echoes of electricity through his body when they dragged over the pink, erect skin.

Will shrugged the shirt off and tossed it aside, leaning down to kiss Hannibal’s neck softly, and then biting, rutting himself against Hannibal’s hips with a groan. “More?” he grinned against Hannibal’s throat.

“Under the veneer of fine tailoring lies something primal,” Hannibal whispered with a moan, and wrapped both legs around Will’s when they ground together. He undid Will’s belt in a hurry, then his pants, and slipped his good hand into his open fly.

Will did the same for Hannibal, and shed them both quickly of their remaining clothes and shoes and crawled back between Hannibal’s legs, fisting them both again, slowly. “Your person suit.”

Will was impatient, gloriously so, and Hannibal adored seeing it, especially after their convincing ‘fight’ at brunch that left Hannibal feeling old wounds deep in his bones, and famished for reconnection. He arched up into Will’s touch, his hand against Will’s flexing, bare thigh, and stared at the way Will moved on top of him. “You are the only one allowed beneath it…”

Smiling at that, Will leaned over and kissed Hannibal slowly, one arm wrapping around his thigh to lift it, needing the reconnection far more than he wanted to believe, but after three years, having it and then taking it away again was punishing. “Reminding me or you?”

“You,” Hannibal whispered with a groan as Will handled him, beautifully, his long body utterly pliant in Will’s hands. “I need no reminder.”

“Then neither do I,” Will murmured, kissing Hannibal hotly, and then rolled himself into Hannibal hips slowly, and then worked them over with one fist.

It was like they were last night, and yet, as it was with a beautiful meal remade again, there were differences. Hannibal could feel more command from Will, more drive, his fist was tighter around their cocks, and the smell of their arousal, of mingling pre-come was enough to put heat behind Hannibal’s loins already, a shake in the thick muscle of his thighs. “I want to taste you,” Hannibal panted against Will’s mouth when their fused lips parted for a second.

More than aware of what they could lose here, Will wanted to be sure Hannibal would remember him one way or another. The brunet licked the inside of Hannibal’s mouth, and then rolled to his back and gently tugged Hannibal over him this time. “Anything you want.”

Being handed such a vast treasure, unconditional access to Will’s body, was dizzying. Hannibal groaned against Will’s lips and moved down Will’s body slowly, kissing and licking at his skin, tasting the divot  between his collarbones, his rosy nipples, his chest. Hannibal kissed his way down Will’s pale stomach and pressed his lips to his old scar.

Will shivered, faint tingling from the scar as Hannibal did that, and he raked a hand through his shorter hair, encouraging Hannibal with a few tugs of the soft strands. Will trusted Hannibal thoroughly, even after all he’d done to harm him.

Hannibal moaned at the tug, and began to bite at Will’s hip, tasting the soft skin with flickers of his infamous tongue when there was a knock at the door. Hannibal sighed, irritated, and looked up at Will. “Who is it?” he called over, while he covered Will with a blanket.    
  
“Your dear uncle,” Robertas’s voice answered.

Will sighed out heavily, but silent as he looked at Hannibal, both of them naked and hard, he rolled his eyes. “Ask him what he wants,” Will whispered.

Hannibal waved his hand for Will not to speak, his uncle’s hearing had not deteriorated with age. “I’m not decent,” Hannibal said, as he moved to retrieve his trousers. Before he could manage that, however, the door burst open from a single kick from the tall butler. Robertas stood in the open doorway, looking at the scene before him.

“You have never been decent, Hannibal.” He said, flatly. “Ms. Du Maurier said she suspected you two were feigning a dispute to mislead me. I see she was correct.”

Will merely sat up and grabbed his pants and slid into them, not caring much who saw what. “Bedelia is very smart, but very stupid,” he said, almost tauntingly. “Doesn’t quite know when to keep things to herself. Could be very deadly for the both of you.”

Robertas smirked at that, looking at the man much smaller than Hannibal, or himself like he was a tiny dog barking at an intruder. He said something in Lithuanian to the butler, and the large man advanced on Will. Hannibal saw it coming, and yanked a heavy lamp from the wall, swinging at the man like it was a bludgeon, fierce enough to drive him back until the butler grabbed the lamp with one hand, and punched Hannibal in his broken ribs with the other, which dropped Hannibal to his knees, breathless.

The butler advanced on Will, tossing furniture out of his way as he lunged at him, Will dodged, but his leg was caught by the butler, and he fell hard on his shoulder, and before he could think, a fist connected with his face and blackness took over his vision.   
  
The butler seemed ready to do more, reaching for Will’s throat with meaty hands, but Hannibal leapt on his back from behind, and used his cast to choke the large man, pressing it against his trachea.  The butler gasped and choked, but Robertas surprised Hannibal from behind by hitting his broken ribs, again, with his cane, hard enough to force Hannibal to lose his grip and fall to the floor, gasping.    
  
The butler grabbed Hannibal by the neck and pinned him to the bed, outweighing him by at least fifty pounds, one knee against his broken ribs to keep him in too much pain to do much besides try to block the agony out.    
  
At least they’d forgotten Will.   
  
“I was going to have Will killed,” Robertas said, as though reading his nephew’s mind. “But Ms. Du Maurier was kind enough to correct me. If you two were deceiving me, and you were, and in love openly with one another, death would never take him from you. You would know, with certainty that you were loved by your beloved.” Robertas glared down at his nephew. “I imagine that’s quite a luxury.”   
  
“You’re boring me, uncle,” Hannibal gasped, “do get to the meat of the story, as they say. What will you do? Eat me?” he asked.   
  
“Not at all. I have no desire to emulate you,” Robertas chuckled, and pulled a blade out of his pocket. “Death would be too fast, too fleeting. I would rather leave you alive, changed forever by my revenge. Ms. Du Maurier advised that what would be best is to take your organ of taste and speech. Never again could you recite Dante, or enjoy a meal, let alone a glass of wine. I am going to leave you a pathetic mute, and Will is going to leave you for it without your beautiful words to make him love you, without your talent for cooking.”   
  
The butler shifted and grabbed Hannibal’s face with one huge hand, holding his jaw in place, and forcing it open, and Robertas shoved the blade into Hannibal’s mouth, which he struggled against, bleeding and choking on his own blood.

Out of nowhere, a vase cracked over the butlers head causing the large man to  black out and pull his weight off of Hannibal. Before Robertas could react, a fist sucker punched him across the jaw, and another hand snapped his wrist and the knife out of Hannibal’s mouth. Will took the knife and shoved it into Robertas’ jugular.

Robertas’s eyes spread open wide, and he gasped, hands clawing at the blade that Will held in, but he was not strong enough to pull it out. Blood sprayed, like a fan over Hannibal, over the bed, over the floor, a deep wine coloured fountain that only began to fade to a mist before Robertas fell to the floor.   
  
Hannibal rolled to the side, coughing as he watched Will murder his uncle. The blood spray coated Will as well, until Will’s bare chest was covered in it when Robertas hit the floor.

Will pulled the knife from Robertas’ neck once he was down, and then stepped over him and shoved it into the butler’s as well, aware that if they did not kill him, too, they’d have a problem. The man bled out silently, and Will looked over finally at Hannibal. He held the knife in his hand and walked over to check on him. 

Blood ran thick and bright from Hannibal’s mouth. He stood, slowly, and made his way to the bathroom, rinsing his mouth with cold water before he checked the wounds in the mirror, leaning against the counter with both hands. Both of them looked like blood-soaked beasts, something torn out of a nightmare. “A clean, three centimeter, amputating cut into the side of my tongue, otherwise, only superficial wounds,” Hannibal assured Will, breathlessly.

“Good,” Will said, and followed Hannibal, checking his stitches on his side, which looked angry but not torn open. “We’ll have to deal with Bedelia now.”

“It was her idea,” Hannibal said, darkly, as he opened a small fridge full of wine and liqueurs for Robertas’s guests, and took out a bottle of expensive Russian vodka, then opened it and took a swallow to swish around in his mouth, holding it there so that it burned and stung, cleaning out the wounds efficiently before Hannibal swallowed it, and looked at the bottle. Hardly the best way to sample vodka, but Bedelia was right, his tongue was something Hannibal was loathe to lose. “Robertas asked how best to hurt me. She said to take my tongue.”

“She would love to have a conversation where she were the only one talking,” Will snarked, shaking his head. He wiped blood from his chest, though it did no good.

Hannibal assessed his cut tongue in the mirror, again, and pulled the medical kit from beneath the sink, calmly, then donned a set of gloves, and removed a needle for a stitch or two through the sensitive muscle.  “I’m certain she was aware of the emotional effect it would have on me to have my sense of taste removed completely, to rob me of one of my greatest joys,” he muttered. Hannibal looked utterly calm, save for the spark of anger in his eyes at the very, very personal attempted mutilation, a spark that only Will would notice. Bedelia would have destined him to a mute, tasteless life. Every kiss with Will would be shallow, or mangled with a writhing stump of muscle in the back of his throat. It would have been ugly, in the extreme. 

“Then we must eat her,” Will said, plainly, wiping blood off himself with a pristine white towel.

Hannibal looked at Will in the mirror with dark eyes as he prepared what he needed to do minor surgery on himself with one hand in the bathroom. His tongue bled, copiously, and he swallowed a mouthful of it before speaking, which stained his teeth red. “I agree, without a single reservation. If you will excuse me, Will, I must stitch this closed,” Hannibal said, softly, and selected a pre-filled syringe of lidocaine, then injected it around the through-and-through cut, more to control the bleeding of the wound than for any pain control. He watched the muscle blanch around the injections, and the bleeding slow, then irrigated it with a can of sterile saline, and spat into the sink almost apologetically in front of Will before he began to push the plain gut stitches into his tongue muscle, fighting to hold the powerful muscle perfectly still as he rejoined the muscular mucosal layer to itself, with four very small stitches.

Will watched, thinking of all the ways he would get back at Bedelia for this. Perhaps making  her eat herself was a fine idea, and she'd hate it. “Do you need help with that at all?”

Hannibal tied the last tiny knot to hold the inner layer of his tongue together, and snipped the dissolvable sutures with a pair of sterile scissors, then looked at Will. “Would you be averse to stabilizing my tongue with a piece of gauze in your hands? It’s very difficult to keep it perfectly still, if you would not mind,” Hannibal said, sounding a little like he had just come from the dentist, but at least the bleeding was not as bad as it was before.

Nodding, Will washed his hands first. “Just want me to hold it?”

“Please,” Hannibal said, and handed Will a piece of gauze with a sigh. “I need to stitch the inferior mucosa, and then the superior mucosa, and it will be done,” he murmured, as clearly as he could.

“Got it,” Will said, and took the gauze from Hannibal, and held his tongue with it so the other man could see in the mirror to stitch it up.

Hannibal took another sterile needle with attached suture, and very carefully put small knots in the lower tissue of his tongue, much more quickly with Will’s help, then repeated the painstaking process with the tissue on top of his tongue, sealing over the first stitches in the middle layer. After what felt like a very long time, Hannibal nodded that he was done, and snipped the edges of the last knot down, then closed his mouth after Will removed his hand. “It is a powerful and agile muscle. It will heal quickly, but requires many small stitches to ensure that the cut is not re-opened with use.” He looked at Will, and gave his lips a gentle, bloody kiss. “Thank you.”

Will smiled at Hannibal, still covered in blood, still only half dressed, but held him close by the hips anyway. “Sure. Shall we shower or go bother Bedelia drenched in blood?”

“We must think of the remaining crew on board, Will,” Hannibal said with difficulty, his tongue and inner cheek swelling from injury. “They are far more likely to report our latest location if we roam the hallways without our people-suits,” he murmured, and smiled a little, not minding the two dead bodies in the other room in the least. They could be dealt with, much later.

Will turned to the shower and pushed the spout on for it, and then discarded his pants to the side. “Shower first.”

Hannibal smiled a little as Will undressed and turned on the shower for them, then stepped in under the spray. Thankfully, his cast seemed to be the water resistant sort, but he still held it as much out of the spray as possible.  

Hannibal was struck by the complete circle his life had made between his stolen shower at Bedelia’s after gutting Will, and this shower  _ with _ Will, about to gut Bedelia. He smiled at the elegant irony, and let the hot water rinse blood off of his face, down his long neck to his chest while he waited with his hand out for his … his  _ Will _ . There was no other term but husband large enough to encompass what Will meant to him, how essential he was.

Will took Hannibal’s hand and stepped in the shower, standing in front of him as blood rinsed off his skin. He grabbed the soap and started to lather it over Hannibal’s body, slowly, leaning in closer, getting his hair wet.

“I enjoy our new level of domestic bliss,” Hannibal said as he worked shampoo through Will’s curls with his hand, watching white foam caress the near-black color of Will’s wet hair. This was the life for which he hungered in Florence. Nothing could replace it. 

Chuckling, Will rinsed Hannibal and the soap from his hairy chest, letting himself enjoy the feeling, working his hands up and over Hannibal’s chest to his shoulders. “A couple of murders, a shower… domestic bliss.”

“Bliss is subjective. What is bliss for most would be tedious for the two of us,” Hannibal whispered, as he massaged Will’s scalp, slowly. “You slaughtered my assailants single-handedly. I would consider that much more romantic than a bouquet of roses.”

“But you wouldn’t mind roses on top of that,” Will noted, and grabbed the shampoo to clean Hannibal’s hair too, getting all the grime and blood out of every silvery strand.

Hannibal chuckled, and kissed Will as Will washed out the sand left in his hair from the sea, and spattered blood. “I would not object,” he admitted. “Considering I was about to serve the bottle of wine you presented to me years ago before refusing to attend my dinner party, were we not so rudely interrupted by a dragon, you can imagine I cherish  _ any _ gift from you, Will.”

“I thought I recognized the bottle,” Will hummed, and scratched blunt nails against Hannibal’s scalp to get out the last bits of grime. He then took the soap to himself, getting off the blood he could reach.

“I was very upset at the loss of that particular bottle,” Hannibal admitted. The place where he had been shot was stitched up during his rib surgery, on it’s way to healing. He was, however, very tired, and very sore after having been beaten against that side of his body during the scuffle with his uncle and the butler.

“We’ll find another,” Will said and finished washing, he turned the water off and grabbed two towels, wrapping one around Hannibal’s hips, and then one around his own. “You look like hell. Want rest first? My room across the hall is less bloody.”

Hannibal was a man of endurance and strength, but there was only so much he could take in the space of two days, and the immediate crisis was over. “I hate to say it, but that may be the wisest decision. We will allow Bedelia to think everything has gone to plan for a while longer,” he reasoned, as he smoothed Will’s wet hair back, and gazed into his blue eyes, stunned by them, as always.

“A rest then, and then we’ll get to it,” Will said, and walked out into the bedroom again, and sighed at the sight. “A shame.” He shook his head slowly, and then grabbed the spare clothes from the closet and walked out into the hall to the room across, leading Hannibal there.

Hannibal wrapped a robe that was left hanging on the back of the door around himself, and tied the sash very gingerly against the healing bullet hole as he followed Will into the other bedroom. “To what do you refer? I did not think you were fond of my uncle.”

“I didn’t think he had it in him, I knew he didn’t like you, but…” Will shrugged, he hated to kill anyone that didn’t deserve it, but Hannibal’s uncle deserved it through and through. He shut the door behind them, and shook out pain pills for Hannibal, handing them to him.

Hannibal took the pills without complaint, and swallowed them with a cool glass of water, a stab of resentment passing through him at how difficult it was to do so with a swollen tongue. “His need for immediate revenge overcame his desire for the entire fortune,” Hannibal said to himself as he laid on the large, well-dressed bed, and waited for Will to join him. “I nearly have to admire that sort of devotion.”

“Perhaps,” Will said quietly, and moved over, naked, to the bed, and curled up in it with Hannibal. He’d dress later. “Either way, what’s done is done.”

The painkillers set in, quickly, and Hannibal ran his hand down Will’s smooth side, then pulled him closer for a soft kiss, unable to resist the hauntingly beautiful man at his side. “We shall rest, and then confront Bedelia,” he sighed. Will’s eyes were the color of the ocean Hannibal saw in his dreams the night before, swirling and deep, as dangerous as they were beautiful.

“Okay,” Will said, neither agreeing or disagreeing with Hannibal. He laid with him, smoothing down his hair and shoulders, watching him as he fell asleep. He kissed his lips once. Hannibal kept his dark eyes trained on Will until he could no longer keep them open, and fell asleep with his head against Will’s shoulder, his nose tucked against Will’s throat. The sea began to sway and swirl again, in mosaic pieces like stained glass that arranged themselves around Robertas, enveloping him almost reverently before they covered him over and dragged him under, to the bottom of Hannibal’s mind, hidden away and resolved.

Once Hannibal was sound asleep, Will got up, tucking a pillow under Hannibal’s grasp, and got dressed. He kept his shoes off and left the room. He searched the ship over for Bedelia, until finally he came back to the room he’d left her in.

“Drinking away your sorrows for what you’ve done to Hannibal?”

Bedelia looked back at Will, alarmed to hear his voice, and not Robertas’s. She took a step back from him, empty wine glass in hand, and had obviously had a few of them. “ _ What _ are you doing here?” 

“Exacting my revenge for Hannibal,” Will said, hands in his pockets, taking a step where she took one back. He wouldn’t tell her anything about where Hannibal was, however, or if he was even alive.

Bedelia backed up, until she could reach her wine bottle with one hand, ready to swing it at Will. “Hannibal has taken enough from you, what is one loss from his side? One missing piece for all of the pieces he has taken from the living and the dead?”

“Taking his  _ tongue _ though? Cheeky, even for you,” Will sneered lightly, and kept advancing as many steps as she took back, keeping a distance. He had a knife in his hand, holding it in his pocket. “He spared you and this is what you give him?”

“Had I not poisoned myself, daily, I have no doubt I would not have been spared,” Bedelia said, then narrowed her eyes at Will, contemptuously. “I must admit, of all his parts, I was the most fond of Hannibal’s tongue,” she said with a smirk, unable to resist gloating.

A subtle shift in jaw was all Will gave her for her comment, head rolling just slightly as he took another step forward. “You were so confident he might want you back and yet you took the very thing you loved the most of him? I may have to take yours as payment, and then sew it back into his mouth.”

Bedelia’s eyes flashed wider for a moment, betraying her horror as she tried to find the door in the long, windowed wall that faced the ocean that was starting to go black under a darkening sky behind her. “He would find that … appropriate, my tongue has been in his mouth before, after all. You are not going to hurt me, Will. You have far too much empathy.  _ Hannibal _ is your instrument of terror, you’re not a monster, no matter how badly you might want to be,” she whispered, trying to find the door handle behind her to escape.

“I helped Hannibal kill Dolarhyde, and I  _ loved _ it,” Will said, brandishing his knife where she could see, in his hand at his side, following her every step. “And what was it you said to do? Kill the bird? You’re like an annoying cockatiel, Bedelia.”

There was something different about Will now, as though everything soft and harmless about him had been washed away by the ocean, and here Will was: unveiled. Bedelia’s hand found the door handle and she opened it, then turned and tried to take flight down the boat’s deck, away from this frightening, wholly-unconflicted version of Will.

Will followed after her, quick on his feet where she was slow from wine, and grabbed her hair with his free hand, fisting long blond strands of it. He tugged her back hard, against the door, and smashed her head between the frame, knocking her out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) No beta, just a light editing, as usual.  
> 2)Little more Will and Bedelia sass for you  
> 3) and some more killing. Hooray!

Hours later, a table was set, lit with candles, and Bedelia was seated at the head of it, dazed and dressed nicely, one leg tied to a chair, the other… missing. There was a lovely roast on the table, and a note was left for Hannibal in their room to meet Will in the dining room.   
  
Hannibal woke, slowly. The note from Will, in Will’s scrawl, was a comfort after waking with a pillow stuffed into the fold of his arm, instead of Will himself. He stood slowly, and dressed with care. If this were an urgent situation, if something had gone wrong, Will would not have sent a simple note. It must be time to dispatch Bedelia, and Will was impatient to remove the vexing, blonde thorn in his side.   
  
Upon opening the doors to the dining room, however, Hannibal faltered in rare surprise. The table was set, opulently, with Bedelia, drugged at one end of it, and an utterly divine looking roast leg on the table. 

Hannibal shut the doors, and turned to look at the feast with a touched smile in his dark eyes as he felt his heart swell in his chest with pride. “A romantic dinner, how thoughtful…” he mused, eyes wet as he noted that every detail had been attended to, down to the correct place settings, elegantly folded napkins, and surely enough: flowers.

Will touched Hannibal’s back and walked him to the table, not a hair of out of place on his head, and he was dressed as if they were attending a fine restaurant together. “I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d feed you for once.” He pulled out Hannibal’s chair for him, and poured wine he found from the other kitchen.

Hannibal smiled, and touched Will’s jaw with his good hand, then pulled him closer for a long, sweet, careful kiss for the beautiful gesture before Hannibal took his place at the table. “I had no idea you had an interest in fine cooking. This smells divine, Will, I am astonished and impressed.” He smiled up at Will, utterly love-struck, and then nodded at Bedelia, as though just noticing her there, acknowledging her presence while Bedelia stared straight ahead with heavily hooded eyes. “Good evening Bedelia,” he said, politely, good hand still resting against Will’s arm.

“I see you kept your tongue,” Bedelia managed slowly, her head wavering slightly on her long neck as she focused on Hannibal, who looked as radiant as a newlywed.

“So I did, thanks to Will. He’s quite the hero,” Hannibal said with a look at Will again, one of open and undying adoration. “He saved my tongue, and presented me with a feast with which to celebrate. If I did not know better, I would assume I had stepped into a five-star restaurant, and I would gladly pay an arm and a leg for such an experience.” Hannibal looked straight at Bedelia with a little chuckle. “Perhaps just a leg, in your case.”

Will smiled over at Hannibal, settling him in, and handed Hannibal his wine, and then served up the roast, cutting into it as he spoke; “The kitchen is well equipped, many cook books and tools. It wasn’t too difficult to follow a recipe.” He laid out cut pieces of loin on Hannibal’s plate neatly.

“You are full of untapped talents,” Hannibal murmured proudly as Will served him, then looked at Bedelia, curiously. “Not one for dinner conversation, Bedelia?”

Bedelia looked all but unharmed, saved for the nasty bruise and gash on one side of her head. Will smiled as he served her up some loin and put it on her plate. “She’s lucky to still have her tongue at all to speak with.”

Bedelia watched Will as he served her, as intently as she could, and when he looked down to put the piece of leg on her plate, she swung out at him with a fork stolen from the table settling. She aimed for his ribs, to drive it between the bones there, but the heavy sedation made her unsteady and uncoordinated, and she sank the fork into the side of Will’s arm.

Will quickly dropped the serving utensils, and pulled the fork from his arm, nothing too terrible, but blood bled through his white shirt there in tiny droplets. He used the fork to stab her served meat and then held it to her lips. “Don’t be rude.”

Hannibal rose when he saw the fork move toward Will, and was at Will’s side now to press a napkin against Will’s arm with a frown and a sigh. “I would have a bite, Bedelia. Will worked so hard on this masterpiece. If you were not wise enough to try it, I may advocate for revoking your right to a tongue. After what you’ve just done, I have no doubt Will would not mind doing the honors,” Hannibal advised, and managed to fold the napkin into a makeshift dressing, then tied it over the stabbed spot on Will’s arm with a soothing kiss to Will’s cheek.   
  
Bedelia closed her eyes for a moment, as though Hannibal’s voice gave her a headache, and looked up to Will, hatefully, before she took a small bite of the meat, cringing as she chewed the tiniest bit of it.

“Bigger bites,” Will said, not moving as Hannibal dressed his wound, and gave him a look out of the corner of his eye, most of his attention on the woman sitting below them. “Or I can remove your tongue now before you can enjoy more. There’s a lovely recipe in the kitchen for tongue…”

“You are a  _ petty _ little man,” Bedelia spat at Will, “and jealousy is a terrible look on you. I have half a mind to contact your wife,” she slurred, and turned her face away from the meat.

Will shoved the fork into her mouth instead and clamped his hands around her head to keep her jaws closed. “You’re not going to be able to do anything when you’re dead.”

Hannibal took his seat again as Bedelia squirmed and fought, but eventually swallowed, then wrenched her face free of Will’s hands and coughed, disgusted. “Then kill me now and spare me having to witness the two of you parade around on your makeshift honeymoon from Hell,” she spat.

Will dropped her fork back to her plate, watching her with a keen eye, but not moving to give her the relief she was looking for. “We thought you deserved a more personalized touch, Bedelia. Death would be too easy. You should suffer for the lies you’ve spread.”

“I earned the right to those lies by listening to him pine for you for months in Florence,” Bedelia snapped, pushed well beyond decorum with outrage. Hannibal just smiled a little at Will, as though to say ‘I-told-you-so’. Bedelia, however, seemed to find a moment for therapeutic venting in the haze of drugs with the taste of her own leg in her mouth. “Nothing but Will, Will,  _ Will!  _ I put up with his _ obsessive _ fixation on you for the entire time and said nothing about them! I let him mend his broken heart over wine and snails going on and  _ on _ about how he could not help but love you even when every ounce of his stubborn mind was opposed to it! MONTHS! I EARNED THOSE LIES, YOU  _ UNGRATEFUL _ LITTLE MAN!” She exclaimed, frustrated, and downed her wine before she smashed her glass on the floor beside her out of sheer frustration, then looked up at the two of them, breathing hard.

Will merely looked over at Hannibal, and then back at Bedelia, seemingly unphased by her outburst. He pressed palms into his own thighs, bent over her a little, nodding his head. “And yet you put yourself in that position. It was you who tried to convince him to eat me wasn’t it?”

Bedelia just glowered at Will, her blue eyes narrowing on him, like an angry siamese cat’s while Hannibal ate and watched, as though Bedelia was providing excellent dinner theatre. “He came to that conclusion himself,” she said, raising her chin before she looked away from Will, and refused to meet his eyes again.

“Oh, I'm sure he did. Hannibal makes his own choices, but you know him well enough to plant the seed. You've never liked me,” Will stated, straightening.

“I was never under the impression that I had to like you,” Bedelia said, with contempt in her voice. “You are nothing but a wild  _ animal _ , pretending to be a house pet.”

“Strange, that’s not what you thought of me last week when we spoke,” Will mused, and walked away from Bedelia, leaving her there with her own leg to finish eating. He sat down across from Hannibal and tasted his meal for the first time, savoring the first bite with a hum, and smiled over at Bedelia.

“I did not think you were capable of this sort of sadistic mutilation _ last week _ ,” Bedelia hissed at Will with venom in her voice, and then looked down at her shattered wine glass, realizing all over again in her drugged state that she had broken it.

“One might argue that advising a capable party to commit mutilation upon another person is just as evil as committing it oneself,” Hannibal argued philosophically, and sipped his wine as though to mock Bedelia’s utter lack of it. 

Will merely sipped his own wine and took another bite of his meal, enjoying and savoring slowly. He smiled over at Hannibal. “We get what we deserve in the end. You thought you were smarter than Hannibal, and yet… here you are.”

Bedelia turned her spiteful look toward Hannibal, and sighed. “That remains to be seen,” she slurred, and sipped some water that was set out in a glass near her plate.

“Oh? What more do you have up your sleeve for us, Bedelia? Another fork?” Hannibal asked.   
  
“I told Jack Crawford that if he did not receive a text from me once a day that he should begin to look into my whereabouts,” she said, with a smirk at Will.

Will smiled. “Lucky for us your belongings are on the ship,” Will said, taking another sip of his wine. “The drugs don’t do much to help you keep your secrets.”

“Her phone may have enabled GPS,” Hannibal pointed out, conversationally, “it may be wise to disable it,”  he said as he  finished his meal, quite happily, and Bedelia glowered at them both as she blinked, slowly.

“Well, I’m sure we can go through all her things to find it,” Will offered, not in any hurry, as she’d only been out for a maximum of a five hours.

“I’d like … a glass of wine,” Bedelia slurred, fumbling with the glasses at the end of the table with unsteady hands, “before you throw me overboard to meet the  _ other _ sharks.”

“My, don’t you sound deserving,” Will snipped, glaring at her. “You broke your wine glass, perhaps you should have thought about that first.”

“Not to mention the last time Will went to your seat, you stabbed him,” Hannibal reminded Bedelia, enjoying himself quite thoroughly, considering what she had almost cost him earlier today.

“Will doesn’t  _ mind _ going back to people who stab him,” Bedelia said, and gave Will a withering look.

“The stab of love versus the stab of jealousy?” Will canted his head just so, and then stood, taking his half empty glass of wine and giving it to Bedelia in passing. “I’ll be back.” He was going to scour her room for the phone.

“Don’t be long,” Hannibal said, fondly, as Will headed to the door, still utterly smitten by Will’s beautiful gesture, and all the trouble he went to for it. Bedelia took the wine and downed it, quickly, muttering to herself under her breath.

Ten minutes later, Will returned with the phone in hand. “I’ve turned the gps off and sent Jack a lovely message for you,” he said, and pocketed the phone into his trousers. “He’ll hardly be worried.”

“So, what, precisely  _ are _ your plans for me?” Bedelia asked Will, clutching her wine glass as she did her best to look as dignified as possible, under the circumstances.

“Feed you enough of yourself before slicing your throat. You’ll join the others then,” Will said, mysteriously, darkly, and laid his hands on Hannibal’s shoulders from behind in a possessive gesture. Hannibal reached his good hand up, and touched one of Will’s so that they formed the perfect portrait of a couple in love for a moment as they looked at Bedelia over her own leg.

Bedelia glowered at them, but began to breathe a little more quickly. “And, if I refuse my last meal?” she asked, settling her wine glass down, hard as she glared at Will over Hannibal’s head.

“Matters nothing to me if you don’t eat. You’ll die either way. Maybe you should have thought this through before deciding to turn against us,” Will suggested, squeezing Hannibal’s shoulders.

“I may have spared you, Bedelia,” Hannibal mused, then met Bedelia’s eyes with cold, hard darkness in his own. “Until this morning, of course. I consider your advice to my uncle a breach of client-doctor confidentiality in it’s ugliest form. I confided in you, and you used that knowledge to orchestrate a punishment for me that would strike at the very heart of my identity. I’m afraid I have no reason to object to Will’s plans for you. How much was my uncle paying you, if you don’t mind my asking?” Hannibal said, evenly and calmly, with utter disdain and indifference in his voice as he leaned back into Will’s touch.

“Enough,” Bedelia said, over a tight throat, and pushed her plate away from her, with no intention of eating another bite. “He was paying me enough.”

“Apparently  _ enough _ is worth your life,” Will said, watching her push the food away like a picky toddler. Will slipped a carving knife into Hannibal’s hand.   
Hannibal stood smoothly, and put his folded napkin on the table next to his plate, then walked to one side of Bedelia, who sat straight in her chair, chin up, defiant. “Io fei gibetto me de le mei case,” he said, looking down at her. “‘I make my home be my gallows’. I could hang you, of course, for your avarice and betrayal, but this is Will’s design, not my own,” he said, and looked at Will, waiting for him to join.

Will would allow Hannibal any means he wanted for Bedelia, he simply gave Hannibal what was on hand. A hanging would be lovely, to watch her squirm. He picked up a steak knife from the table and walked around the other side.

Hannibal looked at Will, over Bedelia’s head between them, and nodded at him that he was ready. “Together, then, swiftly,” Hannibal said, as though they were about to slaughter a pig from a farm for a feast.

Bedelia was unreasonably still, and Will was almost angry about it, but nodded slowly. “On three. One. Two. Three-” the last word slipped out and Will stabbed her just as he had Hannibal’s uncle, right in the neck.

Bedelia knew, very well, that they would enjoy killing her far, far more if she fought them. She remained perfectly still, and silent as a last, defiant act of spite against the both of them. Her eyes widened when Will stabbed the blade into her throat, and she gasped when Hannibal whipped his blade across her throat quickly and cleanly, slitting the trachea. Her gasp rattled as her airway was sliced, and her head fell back as blood poured out of her throat, over the table, and right into her empty wine glass, filling it with deep red liquid one last time.    
  
A flush rose in Hannibal’s face, and his eyes sparkled as he watched the glass fill, just as he had hoped it would. He reached over Bedelia’s body, and pulled Will to him by his shirt, for a kiss over her still-bleeding throat.

Will let go of the knife as Bedelia died, and kissed Hannibal deeply, carefully, grasping the back of his head to tug him closer. Days after the dragon, it was still  _ beautiful. _

Hannibal hummed against Will’s mouth, and cupped the back of Will’s neck with his good hand, then brushed the tongue that Bedelia had almost cost him against Will’s very gently. Both of them were breathing hard, inhaling the scent of roast, wine, spice, and fresh blood as it poured over the table like a crimson tablecloth signalling the finale of the meal. 

Will kissed Hannibal a bit longer and then pulled back, Bedelia’s gargling slowing down as she died under them. He walked around the chair and held Hannibal closer by the hips. “The boat is ours. We need just discard the bodies and convince the crew or… get rid of the crew.”

Hannibal smiled, and nuzzled Will’s face as he inhaled the smell of Will’s skin flushed with endorphins and warm blood from the rush of killing, together, as they were meant to do. “Are you capable of captaining the ship yourself, Will?” Hannibal asked, in an admiring tone.

The yacht was huge, Will had to be honest with that, and shook his head a little, keeping close to Hannibal. “No. We’ll need to convince some of the crew to stay. I’m sure money will work wonderfully.”

“For some of them, yes. Others? No matter what we give them, they will sell a story to Freddie Lounds for more,” Hannibal murmured as his dark eyes roved over Will’s perfect features, more in love than ever.

“Then we promise them more than she will ever give, and… get rid of them when we get to wherever it is we are headed,” Will offered, inching in closer to Hannibal, arms around his shoulders.

“That, or we call Chiyoh to meet us here, and sink the ship,” Hannibal suggested, calmly. “Sunken ships are notoriously difficult to find, particularly if we disable communications,” he said, and moved around the back of Bedelia’s chair to stand closer to Will.

“And sail aboard Chiyoh’s very tiny ship?” Will asked, clearly more than aware that Chiyoh would just as soon see him die.

Hannibal laughed aloud at that, and kissed Will’s lips again, consolingly. “Chiyoh is a woman of infinite resourcefulness. If we were very courteous to her, it is possible that she may be able to captain this ship, while you and I shared the much smaller vessel, and went on our way.”

“She won’t leave me alone with you,” Will said, plainly, his hackles were raised high at just the mention of her. He liked her just fine, but after being shot, well…

Hannibal opened his lips to suggest something, when the dining room door opened and a crew member walked into the dining room with a mop and pail. He froze when he saw Bedelia’s remains, and Will and Hannibal standing behind it, and fled, wide-eyed. “It appears we are killing everyone after all,” Hannibal said, and grabbed his blade again, charging toward the door.

Will pulled his blade from Bedelia’s neck, and ran after the man who fled, faster than Hannibal at the moment as he was far less injured. He jumped the crew member in the hall, on their back, slicing open their neck with his blade. The crew member fell, fighting, and then went limp as his blood sprayed the polished wooden wall of the hallway, and pooled on the floor. Hannibal caught up, a moment later, and looked at Will’s spattered face as the dead man’s eyes stared up near the ceiling. “All it will take is one to see him, and one to reach the radio, and playtime is over, we will both be back with Uncle Jack.”

“Call Chiyoh, I’ll take care of the body,” Will said, already dragging the man back into the dining room, going to throw him out of the window there an dover board with Bedelia.

Hannibal nodded, and pulled the crew member’s phone from his pocket, and dialed a number, and waited for the phone to ring again, which it did, in under a minute. “Chiyoh, my dear? It seems we have need of your expert assistance once more,” Hannibal said, and then switched to Japanese as he spoke with Chiyoh for the rest of the conversation. He did his best to pin the phone to his shoulder and speak as he helped Will with the body, but was unable to give much assistance in his re-injured state.

Will waved Hannibal off and took care of the bodies, dragging them out and shoved them out of the window, one by one, without much good care. They had little time before someone else would wander in and see the blood. He hoped Chiyoh was as swift as she usually tended to be.

“Is she coming?”

“She is, she will be here within a few hours,” Hannibal said, and thumbed through the phone to send their location to Chiyoh. “How many crew members have you counted, thus far?” Hannibal asked, and went back to the dining room for a clean napkin on which to wipe his blade.

“A nurse, the doctor, the butler… whoever this was, there was a chef in the kitchen who helped me, I… might have taken care of him already though,” Will said, with a little smirk over at Hannibal. “He’s in the freezer.”

Hannibal smirked, proudly, and cupped Will’s face with his good hand, knife pocketed for now, then kissed his lips. “You think of everything, my dear. It was my impression that the nurse was sensible enough not to risk our wrath, from my conversation with her. The doctor did not speak to me,” Hannibal tutted, considering that very rude and poor patient care. “That leaves the captain, whom I suppose is sailing our ship?”

“I would assume,” Will, nodded, and then turned his head to kiss Hannibal’s palm once. “The Doctor, you saw more of him than I did. Probably smart enough, as the nurse was.”

“Intelligent, no doubt, but most surgeons have a terrible thirst for attention,” Hannibal chuckled with a knowing look at Will. “I think he will have to go. I shall leave judgement on the captain up to your excellent instincts. Regardless, we must disable communication at once.”

“We can kill the captain easily, throw him over and I can anchor the ship so Chiyoh can find us. Cutting communication means Jack won’t find us either for a while,” Will explained. “Unless they have cell-phones.”

“Then, we shall have to work quickly. No time for art, I’m afraid,” Hannibal whispered, with his cast arm around Will’s back. This was killing for necessity’s sake, unfortunately, far less pleasurable than elevating the rude to something beautiful from something banal.

Will leaned over and kissed Hannibal once, “I’ll go take care of the captain, unless you wish to assist me?”

“I have faith that you will not have any problems,” Hannibal whispered, and kissed the spattered blood off of Will’s lips, then pulled back before he let himself get too distracted by it. Later. They had all the time in the world, later. “I will meet you back in our new room?” Hannibal asked, quite eager to relax with Will after taking care of all the necessary disposals.

Will nodded. “Yeah.” Will just hoped they didn’t under estimate anyone on board and what they would want to do.

Hannibal watched Will, closely, and tilted his head. “Would you rather we killed them together?” he asked, wavering on the subject. He did so love to see Will work…

“Would you?” Will canted his head, not leaving, not moving just  _ yet. _ It would be faster if they split up, but Hannibal  _ was _ gravely hurt, and had been wounded more than once.

“It’s only two men, we’ll go to the captain first, and then find the surgeon,” Hannibal decided with a kiss against Will’s throat, just under his ear, as though they were debating whether to have coffee together before or after seeing an art exhibit.

Will leaned and kissed Hannibal on the mouth once and then headed for the hall, keeping Hannibal close to him as they made their way up the passage, and then a flight of stairs to the helm. The door was closed, and Will held his knife in hand, ready to kick it in and take the captain by surprise, not giving him a moment to arm himself.

Looking at Hannibal, he  whispered, counting off to three, and then kicked the handle of the door straight in.

The Captain was sitting in a chair, literally asleep at the wheel with his feet up on the console of the enormous boat. He startled at the sound and began to look at the dials, to look like he was working much harder than he really was. Hannibal narrowed his eyes, and plunged his knife deep into the man’s chest, between his ribs, through his chest wall, and into his heart as he looked into the lazy Captain’s eyes. 

The Captain gasped, and fumbled for the radio, able to pick it up in one hand, about to press the button on the mic. “Will!” Hannibal nodded at the Captain’s flailing hand.

Will  reached with both hands and broke the man’s neck with one swift movement, and then took the radio from him. He pulled it from the console all together and disconnected them. He looked at the control panel, lowered their speed until they were drifting with nothing but the movement of the waves, and then dropped the anchor.

Hannibal pulled his knife from the Captain’s chest with a shake of his head, and looked at Will. “I’m certain you can sail our ship much more effectively than he did,” Hannibal chuckled, and cleaned his knife again, then looked at the array of instruments. “Are you able to tell where we are?”

“There’s a GPS,” Will said, shoving the captain from the seat and going to look at it. “Somewhere in the Atlantic, looks like we were heading toward Europe. Probably taking you home,” Will suggested.

“I am home,” Hannibal said softly as he looked at Will with a smile in his eyes as he pulled the captain with one hand and began to drag him to the door that led outside.

“Let me help,” Will offered, walking over to drag the other arm of the man to the door, which he kicked open with his heel. He then hoisted him over the rail and tossed him. The splash came and Will turned to Hannibal; “The surgeon?”

Hannibal watched Will hoist the bleeding body over the rails and let him fall without a manufactured care in the world. Gone was the artifice of a man who hated the thought of killing, the pretense of Jack’s little tea-cup. Will stood, glorious and fully himself in the tea-cup’s place. “Yes, shall we?”

Everything ached on him in wounded spots that he couldn’t worry about just yet. Will nodded, and walked with Hannibal back inside. He took a key from the drawer, and locked the Captain’s cabin with it so no one could see no one was in there if they came wondering why they were stopped.

“Servants and paid staff would stay on the floor below family, if my uncle arranged the sleeping accommodations,” Hannibal said, and opened a door to a stairwell, headed downward.

Will followed right behind, touching Hannibal’s shoulder as they went. “He likely did.” They walked down the next flight of stairs slowly, careful that they didn’t run into anyone else that might be jarring for the next few turn of events.

Hannibal and Will looked terrifying, blades in hand, blood-spattered and dark-eyed as they stalked the corridors of the ship, checking rooms one by one until they found a suite with the door closed and locked. Hannibal exchanged a look with Will, and knocked, politely.

Someone shuffled around in there and then a few moments later, the surgeon opened the door, rather wary of them both. “We need to talk,” Will said.

The surgeon narrowed his eyes and moved to back up when he realized the men at his door were covered in blood, “Do we?” He asked in a heavy accent, and pulled a gun from a table beside the door, and aimed it at Will’s head.

Staring at the gun, Will stood there, brows raised at the surgeon and then toward Hannibal. “Are you going to shoot the only two left on board who could pay you?”

“The money is set to transfer to my account when we dock,” the surgeon said, and pulled the hammer back on the revolver. “Whether or not the two of you die, or whether you are turned in to the Americans, it does not matter.”

“Unless you know how to captain the boat, we’re not docking anywhere,” Will said, plainly.

“Any idiot can captain a boat,” the surgeon spat, “it’s an ocean, how hard can it be?”

Will blinked, and then started to laugh, looking from surgeon to Hannibal. “He thinks any idiot can sail a boat, just like any idiot could fly a plane, right?” His eyes darkened as he turned his gaze back to the surgeon, still chuckling at the thought, and the man seemed to have his guard down for that split second, like Will was crazy. Will took it, shoving the knife he had in his pocket  a second before right into the surgeon’s throat.

Hannibal moved with Will, both of them in perfect sync to take the arrogant surgeon off guard. He grabbed the surgeon’s gun and twisted it away from him. The surgeon choked on the blade in his throat, and squeezed off two shots as he fell to his knees, gargling. The shots went through the wall, luckily, and the gun dropped. “Are you hit?” Hannibal asked Will, looking him over with concern.

“No. I’m fine,” Will said, pulling the blade back out from the other man’s throat and he wiped it on the surgeon’s shirt. “Anyone else on board knows now.” He kicked the man over and pushed him inside the room to choke to death on his own blood, and shut the door again, careful to be sure they took the gun with them.

Sure enough, a door opened down the hall, and the nurse stepped out after hearing gunshots, then stared at them and showed them her hands, immediately. “I want no trouble,” she said, clearly. 

“Then go back in your room and stay there,” Will said, taking the gun and shoving it into his pocket for now. He looked at Hannibal. “How long until Chiyoh gets here?”

The nurse nodded, and looked from Will to Hannibal, who gave her a calm nod and met her eyes, and she shut herself back in her room, then locked the door. “Not long at all, enough time to dispose of the surgeon and rest,” he sighed, only able to guess Chiyoh’s distance.

Will opened the door into the surgeon’s room again, and sure enough the man has choked to death on his own blood. Will bend down and started to drag the man out, into the hall, toward the deck, but stopped to look at Hannibal. “Unless we just torch the ship. Burn all the evidence.”

Hannibal nodded, and looked down the hall at the nurse’s room with a sigh. “Perhaps we must. Have you changed your mind about abiding Chiyoh on the small boat?”

“I think we have to do what’s best for the situation,” Will answered, considering it over as he looked down at the surgeon. “If we burn the boat, we have not only Chiyoh, but the nurse, to consider.”

“The four of us on that boat,” Hannibal mused, and smiled at Will. “You and I will certainly have to share the bed. I don’t imagine you would object to that now? Where might we find accellerant on a ship? An engine room?” he guessed aloud, but turned to Will, for his expertise.

“Yes.” Will dropped the doctor and left him there, there wasn’t much need to anything else at this point. “Go tell the nurse to pack whatever she needs, and I’ll go find fuel and matches.”

Hannibal nodded, and pulled Will close by his waist to kiss his bloodied cheek, then strode down the hall to knock at the nurse’s door, speaking to her through it before she opened it a crack, nervously.

Will worked quickly, making his way down to the engine room, where he found a canisters of gasoline for running various components on the ship. He spilled one in the room itself and brought two up the stairs to the main hall, went back for two more and put them on the deck. He started to spill lines of gasoline through all the rooms and decks, and then went to find a light he’d found earlier in his room for candles, before going back to Hannibal.

Hannibal was on the phone, speaking in Japanese with Chiyoh, persuading her to accept yet another passenger. He watched Will coat the hallway with gasoline, drizzling the accelerant into the carpet as Hannibal went to each door and opened them, widely so that the fire might spread more quickly. He said goodbye, and ended the conversation. 

“I’ve managed to convince her to take our nurse on board as well, though Chiyoh is in a foul temper,” he sighed, and pocketed the phone. “May I assist?”

“I’ve got it,” Will said and nodded toward the nurse’s room. “Is she set to go?”

“She is. Rather shocked, but ready to depart with us as we offer the best chance of survival. Chiyoh is approximately fifteen minutes from our location. It seemed she anticipated that we would not be Robertas’s guests for long, and followed us at a distance.” Hannibal chuckled.

“Smart.” Will finished the last room, and then knocked on the nurses door. “Time to go.” He waited for her to open the door and let her out before going in and drenching the bed and bathroom with more gasoline. Once done, he tossed the empty can down the hall.

The nurse clutched one bag to her side, but stayed calm as she followed Hannibal and Will toward the exit. “We will have to light the fires from the inside to ensure that the ship burns, then wait in a lifeboat for our rescue,” Hannibal mused.

Will handed Hannibal the lighter and pulled matches of his own out from his pocket found earlier in the kitchen. “Start on that end and we’ll meet up top.”

“Very well,” Hannibal said, and took the lighter, then walked away to begin setting the carpet on fire. It went up in a roar of flames, the fumes from the gasoline igniting instantly. Hannibal looked at Will over the flames, and smiled, looking every inch the bloodied devil before he left to do the same to the other floors.

Will smiled over the flames and headed up stairs to the other deck and set the flames off there, and then up to the main deck. He turned the gas on in the kitchen and set fire to that too, and then Bedelia’s body in the dining room, before heading out to the deck, watching the yacht burn an orangey blaze.

Hannibal was a moment longer than Will and the nurse who had followed Will, but appeared from out of the smoke, coughing into his arm, and strode toward them. “I opened a gas valve in the engine room, should they examine the wreckage, it will look like an accident,” he said, and uncovered one of the lifeboats. “But I suggest we make our way away from the ship, as quickly as possible.”

“Good idea,” Will said, helping the nurse into the boat first, and then Hannibal, slowly, making sure he got down into the boat. Below deck something blew, hard, and rocked the lifeboat, dropping it down quick into the water before Will could get in. Another burst came and he had no other time to waste, Will  jumped into the water next to the boat.

Hannibal looked back at the ship that was starting to collapse from within as the fuel and gas lines began to compound the fires, and thick, black smoke rose into the sky. It was utter ruin, and chaos, a bit of Hell in the middle of a serene blue ocean. It had it’s own sort of surreal beauty that he had to admire, and then heard the splash of Will jumping into the water, and leaned over the edge of the boat, waiting for Will to surface.   
  
“He can swim?” the nurse asked, with concern, looking between the ocean and the ship as it burned and smouldered.   
  
“Yes. Very, very well,” Hannibal assured her, but his eyes stayed on the water, counting the seconds until Will surfaced, ready to go after him.

Wet fingers  grasped the side of the small boat, and Will pulled himself up and over the side, panting, and dripping wet. “We… we gotta get as far as we can from the boat before it blows completely.”

Hannibal pulled Will up onto the boat with his good arm, and let Will hang onto the cast as he got him on board. He grabbed a paddle and handed one to Will, then tried to paddle as much as he could with one hand before the nurse took the paddle from him and did the work instead, as fast as she could, with Will working in time with her, no matter how much is pulled at his shoulder. They got far enough away, but when the boat blew, pieces of debris landed around them.   
  
Everyone in the boat ducked, reflexively, when it exploded, and pieces of wood and metal rained down around them, splashing into water like bombs as they covered their heads. Hannibal moved closer to Will, and managed to pull him under his suit jacket to protect his head and face from the debris.

“I’m fine,” Will managed to say, and, their boat drifting ever far away from the site, watching it go a ablaze and fall apart all at once. “There goes Bedelia and your uncle, forever…”

Hannibal looked up as the waves from the explosion propelled them away from it, and nodded, his arm still around Will. “An appropriately Hellish demise, for the both of them.”

In the distance another boat could be seen coming on then, and Will knew he’d never be so relieved that it was Chiyoh. “Where do we go from here, Hannibal?”

“We’ll have time to discuss our options aboard the boat,” Hannibal smiled at Will, still cautious enough that he thought it was not prudent to discuss their future before the nurse, who looked at the boat with curiosity as it drew nearer and nearer.

Finally, Chiyoh floated the boat next to the small life raft and stepped out to look at all three of them, unamused, then the sinking, burning wreckage of the ship. “This took you much longer than I thought it might,” was all she said, and helped Hannibal aboard by dropping a rope ladder into the lifeboat.

“Some of us have injuries to consider before we commit treason,” Will said, helping Hannibal up the ladder first, and then the nurse, who looked at Chiyoh with a slight blush, and then stepped aboard. Will climbed up last, nodding his head at Chiyoh in thanks.

Chiyoh nodded back at Will, and looked at the nurse, curiously. Hannibal, still covered in blood and now soot from the explosive debris introduced them, as though they were at a cocktail party. “Chiyoh, this is Hilde, our nurse aboard the ship who was very helpful. Hilde, this is Chiyoh, a childhood friend of mine and guardian angel. If you will excuse Will and I, we must clean up a little,” he said, and left the two of them to talk as he touched Will’s back and walked him toward the small living quarters of the ship.

Will was dripping wet, but let Hannibal lead him inside for now, to clean up. He wasn’t counting on there being any clothes to change into, but luckily it was daylight out and he wouldn’t freeze just yet. Outside the door as it closed, he could hear Chiyoh and Hilde talking politely together.  
“I think that may go very well,” Hannibal chuckled to himself as he pulled a towel out of the very, very small bathroom onboard the ship, and used it to dry Will’s hair, then wrapped it around his shoulders.

“You think?” Will asked, well aware that Chiyoh seemed to like less than one person, and only one person. He took the towel and tried to dry the best he could, and then used the wetness from it wipe some soot from Hannibal’s face. “We’re halfway to Europe, where will we go?”

Hannibal turned his face a little, like a cat receiving a grooming, and closed his eyes as Will cleaned his face for him. “The world may be our oyster, but I would be reluctant to return to Italy so soon; France and England may be too vigilant to manage, at the moment,” Hannibal considered, and moved closer to Will, enjoying the sensation of Will’s nearness.

“We can certainly  decide when we dock, as I don’t think staying on board this boat for much longer than needed is wise,” Will said quietly, and dabbed and rubbed off soot from Hannibal’s face, and then leaned in kiss his lips. “How’s the tongue?”

“Sore, certainly, but it will heal quickly,” Hannibal murmured, and kissed Will again. He still had to be cautious, but tongues were able to heal very, very quickly from nearly any sort of wound, thankfully. “I think it would be wisest to move south,” Hannibal reasoned as he smoothed Will’s wet curls off of his forehead.

“Now or after we get into harbor?” Will asked, staying close, one too many close calls to be thankful for having each other, again.

“Now. I will pay Chiyoh handsomely for the boat, triple it’s value, and we can take it south, if you would like,” Hannibal murmured to Will, and took the towel to wipe the smudges of soot from Will’s neck and face that had landed on his wet skin before Hannibal covered him.

“You’re the boss,” Will whispered, leaning in to rest up against Hannibal just enough, but not get him wet from his clothes.

“Am I, now?” Hannibal laughed, and pulled Will closer with his good hand, to rest against him fully. Wet clothes be damned.

“Sometimes,” Will whispered as he kissed and nipped at Hannibal’s lips softly, resting their foreheads together.

“Perhaps Argentina. We have only been at sea two days, we can still go south, purchase another boat soon for Chiyoh and the nurse whom I’m certain will become her friend, and sail off toward a beautiful country full of wilderness, robust wine, mountains, and the most sublime fishing on the planet,” Hannibal reasoned.

Will nodded, though backtracking now he was almost afraid they might find trouble. Hannibal knew more about traveling than he did, though. “We could. Better to tell her now so we don’t get too far off course.”

“So we shall,” Hannibal agreed, and kissed Will’s lips again, then stroked the back of his wet hair, and nuzzled his face. “Will you come with me, or rest?”

“She likes you better,” Will said, though hardly needing to rest, he would let Chiyoh and Hannibal have a moment.

“She is rather particular,” Hannibal chuckled against Will’s lips, and kissed him again. “I shall join you in a moment,” he said, headed to the door.

Will nodded, and once Hannibal left, he started to go through drawers hoping to find  _ something _ else to wear or a while, but nothing was found. Instead he stripped down to underwear and wrapped a blanket around himself instead and laid the clothes to dry. He then flopped down on the bed, just to rest his eyes…


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) no beta  
> 2) Light edit.  
> 3) Keep in mind that we are not sailors and have never sailed the way they are going, so somethings might not be too realistic. We do try, but it is fiction after all.

The air did not smell like the burning wreckage of a ship at all when Hannibal opened his eyes. If anything, it was much, much warmer here, and the air carried the fragrance of salt and something slightly sweeter. He took a deep breath of it, and rolled onto his back to look at Will, who had snuggled in behind him, arms around Hannibal’s sleeping body.    
  
Hannibal stared at Will, and touched his face with his good hand, stroking the stubble that had grown on his jaw, and just over his lip. They must have been asleep a very long time.

Will shifted a little when he was touched, able to feel someone moving next to him, and his opened his eyes, slightly groggy. He hadn’t remembered falling asleep, but it felt like he had for a long time, and yet still not enough. “What time is it?”

Hannibal’s heart leapt a little at the sound of Will’s groggy morning voice, and he kissed his chin. “I’ve no idea. They took my watch during the surgery, and I tossed the stolen phone over the side of the lifeboat.”

Rolling a little, Will wrapped his arm around Hannibal’s torso, and pressed his face against his shoulder, his hair was an array of curls against Hannibal’s bronzed skin. “I’m starved.”

“I think we may have slept for a very long time. A shame we did not think to bring a little of Bedelia with us,” he tutted. He was quite comfortable with Will, snuggled up and happy, but made himself move away to climb out of bed to see if he could find anything for them to eat. “I will see what I can find. We may have to rely on your fishing skills.”

“We may?” Will sighed, groaning now that Hannibal had moved away. He grabbed his dry clothes from where he left them to dry, perfectly so now. He slid his pants on and hugged Hannibal from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. “I’ll have to see if Chiyoh has fishing gear.”

Hannibal sighed at the hug, and touched Will’s arm with his hand as he was embraced, then turned his head back to kiss Will, softly, utterly charmed by him, even when his stomach growled and gurgled, quite empty. “I’m certain she will have something suitable,” he whispered. 

Will raised his brows at Hannibal and then let go of him, slipping his shirt on, doing up the buttons, and walked out onto the deck, the sun shining and it was surprisingly warm out. “Chiyoh?”

Chiyoh was at the helm of the boat, and the nurse was with her, drinking what appeared to be a cup of tea. They both looked rested. Chiyoh looked over at Will, disdainfully, but nodded her head. “You are finally out of bed.”

“I am.  _ We _ are.” Will spread his hands, trying not to look too much into the two of them. “Do you happen to have a fishing rod?”

Chiyoh nodded at a long wooden box along the deck, tucked under a bench, and went back to looking at the sea as Hannibal came out, dressed in the clothes they wore to escape Robertas’s ship. “Good morning, Chiyoh, Hilde. I trust you slept well?” he asked. 

“Very,” was all Chiyoh said, and Hannibal smiled, his eyes twinkling softly. She nodded at a small fridge behind her. “There is some food in there. I came prepared,” she said, for which Hannibal thanked her before he went to the fridge and pulled out a few things.    
  
Will was gathering up fishing rod and putting it together when Chiyoh said there was food, but he would make sure there was more, given they had no idea how long they’d be sea. Given Will had no idea, anyway. He’d guess not much longer, but better not to starve. There was a bit of bait in the box, and he used it on the hook and cast the line out to sea, leaning against the rail of the boat.

Hannibal talked with Chiyoh and Hilde, who seemed companionable with one another, and brought a phone back to Will to show him a map. “Here we are, out of range of the coast guard, of course. We are headed down to Barbados to allow Chiyoh and Hilde to disembark and purchase a boat of their own. We will then sail from Barbados to Argentina,” Hannibal whispered into Will’s ear, holding the phone so that Will could see it in his good hand.

“That’s not terrible. You want to keep this boat?” Will asked, quietly, between them, holding the fishing rod out, hoping to catch something, though he knew little about the waters here.

“It would be prudent. Do you think it is manageable on the waters? I think it would be best to avoid purchasing anything large until we are safety in Argentina, but I defer to your expert opinion on boats, of course.” Hannibal put the phone in his pocket.

It was Chiyoh’s to start, but if she was giving it up, Will would manage. “It’s fine, I just didn’t want to take from her.”

“She has no particular emotional attachment to this vessel, and I made it clear that she will be paid enough to purchase anything she decides would be an appropriate upgrade,” Hannibal said, and watched Will fish as he inhaled the scent of sea-salt and old blood in Will’s curls.

“She’s taking the nurse with her?” Will asked, his line bobbing along, as the boat moved, which wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing at this point.

“She seems not to mind,” Hannibal whispered, with a smile, and stole a kiss from Will’s cheek. “I’ll make something for you to eat while you fish,” he promised.

“If you think she’ll let you,” Will sniped just a little, but gave Hannibal a teasing gaze. Chiyoh didn’t like him, but that was because Will demonstrated earlier in knowing her that he had one mindset with Hannibal. Things were different now and he hoped she could see that.

“I have permission,” Hannibal laughed, and kissed Will’s neck where the sea spray had replaced blood, then made himself step away from his handsome fisherman, and head indoors to prepare something with the modest space and ingredients at hand. He came out a moment or two later with a cup of tea, which he set near Will on the bench near Will’s legs, then returned again with a plate full of arranged canned fruit that Hannibal had cut elegantly and drained of syrup, then interspersed with thinly sliced scones, dusted with a light seasoning of cinnamon. “The best I could manage on no notice,” he apologized.

“Hannibal Lecter, eating canned fruit…” Will chuckled, setting the pole between his thighs as he took the tea to sip first, and then pieces of fruit that he held in his mouth to savor and enjoy before swallowing.

“When in Rome,” Hannibal sighed, and gave the fruit a look before he took a piece of the scone, easing his way into it. “Near the end of my incarceration, I was served much worse.”

“I wouldn’t doubt that,” Will sighed, but smiled at Hannibal, and stuffed some scone into his mouth. “It’s not bad, honestly.” He dropped a piece of fruit, though, when his line was tugged, and he had to let go to hold the rod and reel in a fish, big enough to feed them for lunch at least.

Hannibal looked on proudly as Will pulled the large fish into the boat, and watched as it flailed in the alien atmosphere, and then went still after Will clubbed it, once. “Long ago, a skilled fisherman, such as yourself, must have seemed like a God who pulled miracles from the deep,” Hannibal murmured, and kissed Will’s cheek.

“Hardly a God. Essential living techniques,” Will replied, and  started to gut and scale the fish, quickly, with precise hands and knife work. “It’s not luck.”

“Skill is much more impressive than mere chance,” Hannibal agreed, and sipped his own tea as he watched Will gut and scale the fish with practiced hands. “I think you’ll have plenty of chances to become even more highly skilled at oceanic fishing. A place well-suited for a fisherman’s life was one of the many requirements I had in mind long ago, when I was investigating properties in Argentina.”

Will raised his brows toward Hannibal with a tip of his head. “I thought you'd always been planning Florence.”

“I know very well that it pays off in spades to have more than one happy-ever-after to run to,” Hannibal said, smiling at Will.

Will smiled a little over his shoulder, filleting the fish. “With or without Abigail?”

“I can have a happy ever after with you, and without her. The same cannot be said in reverse,” Hannibal said, honestly. There was no meaning without Will.

“Just us,” Will agreed, having long since let Abigail go, and he had needed to because of how much she had meant to him, but now she was a faded memory.

“You are essential to my happiness,” Hannibal admitted, watching Will work. “I cannot imagine a life without you that I would willfully pursue.”

Will threw the guts and bone into a bucket on deck, and smiled a little wider. “You've waited a long time. Who am I to deny you?”

“I’m afraid you would have to stop my heart to stop my adoring you, Will. What I am even more afraid of is that now I know for a fact that I would allow it,” Hannibal said, thinking of the fall from the cliff, and how he didn’t resist for a moment. 

Will took the fish in hand, and stood, looking at Hannibal fondly. “You don’t have to be afraid of that. I promise.”

“I’m still not certain if you had a momentary lack of judgement, or a moment of clarity that sent us over the edge,” Hannibal chuckled, able to feel his face flush ever so gently when Will looked at him that way.

“A little of both,” Will chuckled, and motioned Hannibal to  follow him back inside to pack the fish into refrigeration for now. “A rebirth of sorts.”

Hannibal followed, and helped Will lay the fish in a shallow dish, then began to prepare a simple marinade for it from a half-lemon, a sprig of dill, and a pat of butter. “Here we are, reborn, still as conjoined as ever we were, if not more so.”

“Still making food today,” Will said, watching Hannibal prepare their food, right out of the sea, and as fresh as it would ever get.

“Bedelia was correct, in one respect. I am a creature ruled by my tastes. At the moment, I would much rather taste a fish fresh from the sea after it has been flavored in an improvised dressing than canned fruit,” Hannibal chuckled.

“I’m right there with you,” Will said, looking at the little stove, it wasn’t much but it would cook up their meal. “The NOLA was  a little smaller than this one, but same sized little kitchen unit.”

“It’s adorable, and intimate,” Hannibal said as he looked around, then at Will. “I would have loved to have seen the NOLA. Did you ever think I would be aboard it, with you?” he asked, wistfully.

“I had hoped,” Will mentioned, with a little shrug. “I sold it though, so that dream left when we parted ways. There are other boats.” Though not one of them would have the same meaning to Will, as one he fixed and repaired with his own two hands.

“To whom did you sell it?” Hannibal asked, as he looked back at Will after turning the small oven on. He could not help but wonder if it could be recovered without giving their location away.

“I don’t recall,” Will said, shrugging, leaning against the small counter after he washed his hands. “Someone looking for a boat in Paris. I paid to have it brought to them from Italy.”

Hannibal sighed, and shook his head, then looked back at Will, curiously. “Was this before or after my trial?” he asked, always curious about that period of Will’s life: the days that passed like tar through a sieve as Hannibal sat calmly in a cell, and obsessed over his lost beloved.

“During. I was… upset. I wanted to rip out every last bit of you from my memory,” Will admitted, with a sigh, canting his head to give Hannibal a sidelong glance through heavy dark lashes.

Hannibal turned to look at Will, and leaned back against the small counter as he listened. “What did you do once Jack took me away?” Hannibal asked, softly, his voice far more intimate now than it had been even in therapy.

“I got my dogs back. Saw a doctor. Sold my house. I moved far away from any memory of you,” Will replied, very quietly.

Hannibal reached out, and took one of Will’s hands in his own, then laced their fingers together in a simple, but thorough bond. “A doctor?”

“After everything that happened in Florence and Verger’s farm, I wanted to be sure I was okay. Physically, mentally,” Will offered, with a deep sigh. “Physically I was going to be fine, thanks to you. You patched me up pretty well.”

“I had become your unlikely savior,” Hannibal murmured, with a sardonic smile that pressed his lips into a flat line for a moment. “Did Alana tell you what happened at the farm?”

“No. I presume the more people that knew the truth, the more likely it was more people would get into trouble,” Will said, tracing his fingers against Hannibal’s pulse in his wrist, pulling him forward.

Hannibal stepped closer, with a little smile, and wound his cast arm around Will’s shoulders as they spoke about their time apart. “Mason had me stripped, gagged, and bound like a pig in his barn. He had me branded too, of course. I’m not certain you’ve felt it yet, the mark is in the middle of my back. Alana and Margot came to see me, separately. I advised Margot to kill Mason, it would be therapeutic for her, and offered myself as a red herring to keep her good name clear. Alana offered me a blade in exchange for a promise. She asked me to save you,” Hannibal said, softly, as he looked into Will’s eyes. 

“I had never considered myself anyone’s savior before. If I had angelic tendencies, they were certainly of the fallen variety. Once Alana suggested it, however, the possibility bloomed in my mind that perhaps I could become strangely heroic. I saw within myself the capacity to protect you. I had, until then, regarded myself as an agent of destruction, of beautiful ruin. However, I began to see that it was still within my nature to put your well-being foremost in my mind out of a dark, and obsessive love. The instinct to care for you had been growing within me for a very long time. I could cut your skull, but I could not bear to scald your lips with soup,” he chuckled, and swallowed, hard. “It was, however, an alien, threatening impulse to a selfish creature: and so I reacted to it like a surgeon at first, with the urge to excise it … to cut you out,” Hannibal murmured, and touched Will’s forehead scar, still gazing into his eyes.

“There are moments in one’s life when one’s entire self-concept is shaken and torn away to reveal something new. The birth of a child makes a man a father, a wedding may make him a husband, and my promise while bound and branded in Mason’s barn to become your protector changed me in just such a way. I became …  _ yours _ . I stopped fighting my newly beating heart, and embraced the way in which you had changed me, as I had changed you.”

Will smiled sadly at that, aware that as Hannibal had grasped his newly found heart, Will had crushed it. They had never truly been on the same page until now, and Will was inevitably grateful for it, to finally have it. He pressed his palm into Hannibal’s chest, over his beating heart. “And finally, here we are. Changed and whole, put together anew.”

“Do you recall being carried over fields of snow?” Hannibal asked. “I knew the roads could be watched, either by what remained of Mason’s men after my rampage, or by the FBI. I carried you home, then repaired your wounds as perfectly as I knew how, dressed you in something I imagined you would like, and waited by your bedside with my equations. I could see now that I had embraced the change that you had engendered in me, how terribly I had failed you when I fought the sliver of light that you had smuggled into my soul, wicked boy.”

“Vaguely,” Will admitted, leaning his head against Hannibal’s shoulder, scooting in a little closer, arm around his waist, carefully. “Still mad I tricked you into giving yourself up?” Will grinned mischievously at that, he knew Hannibal wouldn’t be angry, he’d always found Will quite cunning.

Hannibal huffed a little laugh, and held Will closer to him. “No. Not for a moment. You and I are too honest with one another for that, and I have to admire a man who is able to defeat me at my own game … if I was actually defeated,” Hannibal smirked.

“You were defeated for three years,” Will added, though honestly, Will defeated himself at the same time, hid away, became… normal, as normal as anyone like Will Graham could be.

“I waited for three years, created a den for myself, and waited for you to return to me, which you did,” Hannibal said with a smug smirk, then looked at Will more seriously.  “Where did you go, from Wolf Trap?”

“You already know that. You managed to get my address to give to Dolarhyde,” Will said, pointedly, nosing against Hannibal’s jaw.

“I did not know how long you had been there, or if you had wandered anywhere else,” Hannibal murmured, and tipped his head back with half-closed eyes, and a heavy sigh.

“I bought the house mostly for the dogs at first,” Will explained. “Got a new boat, fished a lot.”

“Is that how you met Molly?” Hannibal asked, in a measured tone of voice.

Will nodded slowly, his hold on Hannibal tighter. He never expected for Hannibal to get out, or to ever see him again, so he settled, and took the next best thing, a woman that accepted him. Well, accepted what he told her about himself. “Yes.”

Hannibal felt Will hang onto him a little more tightly, and looked down, at Will’s shoulder. “Unlike me in every conceivable way, I’m sure.”

“As far from as I could manage to get,” Will whispered. “She was sweet and kind, loved dogs, strays… Everything I thought I would need in someone, and yet it was so mundane, so domestically… nice.”

“What a pleasant artifice,” Hannibal said, frost beginning to creep into his tone as he spoke, and imagined it. “Naturally, you lost yourself in the role.”

“I got to be a dad. I got to fish, I got to repair boat motors. I didn’t have to think about… murder cases anymore. I slept,” Will sighed, meeting Hannibal’s eyes. “I was happy. I was content, anyway.”

Hannibal met Will’s eyes in return, his own defenses rising a little at the thought of Will with a wife, let alone the sort of wife he imagined. “I’m afraid I won’t be preparing  _ tuna casserole _ anytime soon.”

Will chuckled almost bitterly at that. “I don’t… want tuna casserole, Hannibal. I want… braised ribs of whomever you decided was too rude to keep living.”

“When, precisely, did you realize that?” Hannibal asked, as he stepped around Will to put the fish in their tiny oven. He needed to do something with his hands that wasn’t snapping things in two.

“When I saw you again. Talked to you again,” Will said, ducking his head a little, like a puppy that just got chided, who did something bad.

“Our exchange was hardly warm, hardly intimate,” Hannibal said, as he began to slice what few greens he took from Chiyoh’s supply.

“I was in denial,” Will admitted quietly, arms crossed over his chest now, pulling up his barriers as Hannibal grew frigid with him.

“And yet, you returned,” Hannibal sighed, still not quite over the fact that Will had really married someone else. Will still had the ring, after all.

“As I often do,” Will sighed, and pushed off the counter with his hip, and walked around the small kitchenette, and toward the door. 

“Do you still have your ring, Will?” Hannibal asked, without looking up.

Will had taken it off when he had to deal with Bedelia, and their secret had been found out and keeping it on hadn’t been needed anymore. He’d put it in his pants pocket at the time, and now he put his hands in them, but the ring was gone, likely when he dove overboard the ship. “No,” he said, simply, looking out the small port window.

“What’s happened to it?” Hannibal asked, as he began to cook a small quantity of rice in a tiny pot on the stove.

“I took it off,” Will said, shrugging his shoulders, walling himself up a little more, his gaze dark on the outside waves.

“Are you injured at my injury?” Hannibal asked, and turned to look at Will. “You were more than permitted to express your resentment toward Bedelia, I am not allowed the same right?”

“I didn’t become frigid toward you at the mere mention of her,” Will pointed out, casting his ocean blue eyes toward Hannibal. “Molly isn’t Bedelia. She doesn’t play mind games. She simply is.” Will sighed. “I’ve lost the ring. It’s somewhere down at the bottom of the sea, I suspect.”

“When a creature is injured, they retreat to a comfortable place,” Hannibal said as he looked at Will’s alluring eyes. “You did not become frigid, you became murderous.”

“Was she undeserving?” Will asked coldly.

“Not at all. I have no plans to kill Molly, but I will not pretend I do not resent her,” Hannibal said, simply. “I have the right to be injured by your choices, Will, as you have the right to be injured by mine.”

“Would you have preferred I kept Bedelia alive?” Will asked, aware that Hannibal was right, he had every right to feel anything he wanted.

“Not in the least. I enjoyed your feast, I will always remember it,” Hannibal said, and stepped closer to Will, now, his good hand against Will’s chest, over his heart. “It was beautiful. However, between the two of us, it is imperative that we agree that you are able to wound me in a way that no one else can, with a devastating intimacy. We are no longer in front of Jack and Alana, you are no longer Will Graham: helpless empath. You and I are monsters, Will. Your teeth are as deadly as my own, and your marrying another was painful to me, as I’m sure you hoped it would be, at the time.”

“I actually never expected for you to find out I was married, the thought of it hurting you never crossed my mind when I got married to Molly.” Will watched Hannibal’s eyes up close, shifting his jaw a little. “It’s not always about you. I did what I had to do to try and move on.” Try was the keyword.

“I see. I was alone in my obsessive focus, then,” Hannibal said, as his vision drifted to the wall over Will’s shoulder. He turned back to the kitchen counter, and began to work again, slowly.   “Are you aware that you are only keeping track of one half of the wrong doing and betrayal in our relationship?” he asked, not looking back at Will as he crushed a clove of garlic with the side of the knife-blade.

Perhaps Will didn’t have obsessive focus at the time, but he had been taking care of himself in trying to get past the trauma, and with that learning to push down anything Hannibal might have felt from it. Especially helpful when he had to take the stand at Hannibal's trial. Will could feel too much sometimes from everyone, and feeling and taking Hannibal’s point of view would have only stuck him right back in the loop he’d been in since they met. Even now, he knew he was still putting those blocks up-- Hannibal was right.

“Force of habit,” Will whispered

“I have admitted to everything I have done to you, told you precisely why. I am accountable, Will. I am accountable for cutting you, for killing Abigail in an act of angry revenge, accountable for running off with the woman I helped you murder days ago out of spite, accountable for manipulating you when we were becoming close. Perhaps it is time, if we are to move forward in our relationship, for you to become accountable for forgiving me with a blade in your hand, readied behind my back.”

“I forgave you before that, but you’re right. I wanted to for a split second. A knife wouldn’t have been intimate enough. Nor would it have done much to you. I don’t think I would have had the means to strike you down,” Will admitted.

“Are you aware that your accountability just now was eighty percent justification, Will?” Hannibal asked softly, and looked back over his shoulder at Will with soft, tired eyes. “It sounds as though you are still preventing yourself from accepting that you are as capable as I am, in every respect. It takes more than a split second temptation to draw a blade in public - one must first pack the blade, then draw it, then open it and position oneself to strike. What haunts me the most is that I was, once again, taken completely by surprise by your actions. I did not suspect a thing. Had my own loyal guard dog not intervened, I would have allowed you to do as you pleased, just as I allowed you to push us into the Atlantic. Surprise.”

“Were you not taking me back to your abode to drug me and cut open my head?” Will looked toward Hannibal, knowing he was right, that he was putting justification to his own actions, it’s how he dealt with it all, how he moved on. He wasn’t perfect, he knew that, neither of them were despite what Hannibal might have thought of himself. “Fine, I thought about killing you, but it wasn’t the first time.”

Hannibal turned to face Will, meeting his eyes without an ounce of pretense. “No. I was not bringing you to my abode to cut open your head,” he said, honestly. “I wanted to be alone with you. I wanted to be with you. Cutting into your skull was a decision I made after I discovered that you drew your blade behind my back in the square. The bone saw was one I had with me for creating meals, the drugs were Bedelia’s. Our unfortunate interlude was what I felt was a necessary improvisation.”

“My mistake then,” Will admitted quietly, taking a deep breath and sighing it out. They’d always been trying to one up the other, somehow, to get the upper hand in dominance, and for a while Hannibal let Will have it, but now they were on a level playing field. “My apologies.”

Hannibal stepped closer to Will, and put his hand against Will’s waist, to keep him close, then brought their faces together. “An apology is unnecessary. All I wanted is for you to expand your self-concept to include being accountable for being able to intentionally wound me. I have wounded you, gravely. I do not intend to do so, ever again, Will. I find it difficult to believe you will never again wound me until you are first able to accept that you have been capable of doing so in the past. That is all. Admittance is enough. I do not need an apology, particularly if you are not sorry. I am not sorry, for instance, that I did not treat your encephalitis. It was a terrible thing of me to do, but it brought us closer together.”

“I am accountable only for the things I did to hurt you intentionally. Again, back to marrying Molly? That wasn’t about you,” Will explained, wanting that very clear. It had never been about Hannibal, but about Will forgetting his past, forgetting that he was in love with someone else he really thought he shouldn’t be. “Pulling a knife on you? Yes. Telling you to leave, that I didn’t want to think about you anymore? Yes. I did those with intention.”

Hannibal nodded with a barely there movement of his head, accepting that. “Do you wish to return to her? To your old, respectable life in which you never had to admit such things about yourself?”

“What do you think?” Will asked, their faces still close, his eyes on Hannibal’s as he pressed the scar on his head against Hannibal’s forehead. “Would I have orchestrated any of this if I had wanted to return to her at the end?” Will gave Molly a means to an end of a life that he never wanted to bring her into, and she deserved better. Will belonged here with Hannibal, always had.

“I think being comfortable was an uncomfortable experience for you,” Hannibal murmured. “And that you had never felt so alien as when you were doing your best to blend in with normalcy. I have your own drive for self-delusion to thank for your boredom, and barely concealed self-loathing, which, I think, drove you back to me. You felt accepted, but certainly never understood.”

“Boiled down to it, perhaps. It was Dolarhyde that eventually put us back in our orbits again. You made sure of that with your letter.” Will realized after the fact that Hannibal only told him to stay away as means of getting Will to do exactly the opposite, just as Will had told Hannibal he never wanted to see him again, that Hannibal should run, but Hannibal did exactly what Will had intended, and given himself up. “But, you’re right.”

“You were perfectly capable of peeling back the layers of the dragon without my being there to hold your hand,” Hannibal smirked at Will, knowingly. “You had an iron-clad excuse. Innocent families would have died had you not summoned your strength and come to see the monster you could not admit you missed, Will.”

All Will had needed was for Molly to insist, for Jack to show her the pictures. She knew enough about Will to know that he’d hate himself if he didn’t help. What she didn’t know was that Hannibal would be involved, that Will needed Hannibal to get right back into that part of his life again. Will could do it without him, of course, but that hadn’t been the point. Even if Will hadn’t been acutely aware of it himself.

“I could have saved them without you. I’d done it years before I met you. I needed you,” Will admitted, and locked gazes with Hannibal. “I  _ need _ you.”

Hannibal stared back, kitchen knife still in hand as Will said that, crushed garlic and minced greens on the counter. “Do you?” he asked, very softly, the knife as harmless as a rose in hand around Will, these days. They had evolved past that, too close for blades.

Gently, Will removed the blade from Hannibal’s hand and set it on the counter, and then slipped his arms around his shoulders, bringing them chest to chest. “I do.”

“You said, at the time, it was not good to see me,” Hannibal whispered, as their noses brushed. “Was it?” he asked in a knowing, teasing tone of voice, well aware of Will’s state when he walked out of the BSHCI.

At the time, Will had still be upset about what happened with Molly and Walter. A lie like that was likely to make Hannibal upset, and he’d done it with purpose. “It was,” Will whispered, breathing in deeply once before he kissed Hannibal softly.

“How good?” Hannibal whispered when their lips parted. After days of sleeping with Will as they travelled south, his tongue was already all but healed, and he brushed it over Will’s when he kissed him again.

“Very,” Will whispered, murmured against Hannibal’s mouth as their tongues slipped together slowly, his arms tighter around his shoulders, pressing them in hip-to-hip.

“Enough that you felt guilty for it? Enough that you had whiskey, alone?” Hannibal whispered, and walked Will backward, toward the bed with a sly look in his eyes.

“Yes,” the brunet admitted once again, feet shuffling backwards until his calves hit the bed, and he dropped down, tugging Hannibal with him.

Hannibal laid over Will, and kissed him, slowly and deeply. Becoming re-immersed in their past was enough to make this moment feel nearly like he had stepped out from behind the glass of his cell, and pinned Will to a couch, instead of watching him go. “I adore you, especially when you are a spiteful liar trying your best to hide how aroused you are.”

Breathing out in ragged, lusty breaths, Will smiled against Hannibal’s mouth, biting at his bottom lip. “What gave it away?”

“The smell of your skin,” Hannibal whispered with another slow, probing kiss to Will’s mouth before he kissed Will’s jaw. “The way you raise your chin a little, allowing me to see the pulse throbbing in your neck.” Hannibal kissed the spot, slowly, able to feel Will’s blood hammering against his tongue and teeth.

Feeling Hannibal over him like this, healing and well, and no qualms between them, nothing but lust and love, was the best thing Will could hope for. His skin crawled with heat as Hannibal found every spot of sensitive skin on his neck. He tugged silvery strand with his fingers, holding Hannibal just  _ there _ . “How badly did you want me?”

“That evening, after you left, I drew your bare throat in almost photographic detail for twelve hours,” Hannibal whispered as he bit and sucked at Will’s throat, and undid the buttons of his bloodied, and wrinkled shirt, stripping it from his chest with one hand. “You sent my mind into an obsessive frenzy, and a jealous fury.”

Will pressed his palms into Hannibal’s chest and started to undo his shirt, feeling out that patch of hair he adored so dearly now, his breathing becoming increasingly labored as Hannibal worked him over, and they hadn’t even undressed fully yet. “Tell me what you wanted to do to me.”

“I wanted to pin you to the wall and kiss you until you admitted that you missed me, desperately,” Hannibal whispered as he undid Will’s pants, his own hips rolling over Will’s, undulating like the slow waves under their boat. “Or coax you closer to the glass, and have you remove everything, tantalizing me slowly until I found a way out to you.”

“You wanted me to strip for you?” Will asked, his blue eyes dark with wide blown black pupils, lifting his hips to shimmy down his pants slowly, over his hips and ass, his own hands pushing Hannibal’s shirt off his shoulders.

“I wanted to see your flesh, to see that my scar was still there, you had never had it covered over, or redone,” Hannibal whispered, and let Will push his shirt off, both of them breathing hard. “I wanted to touch you in ways that no one had ever touched you before, that no one was able to touch you, currently, not even whomever was responsible for the line on the ring finger of your left hand,” Hannibal moaned, and ground his thigh between Will’s once Will’s pants were gone, flesh against flesh, warm, and smooth.

“How could I remove something you’ve given me?” Will asked, gasping pants into the air, and then tugged Hannibal into another heated, long, wanting kiss, working his fingers against his slacks until they were undone and then forced them off.

Hannibal shifted the trousers off, slowly, his socks, too, and peeled everything off of himself and Will until they were bare with one another, on the bed, their skin hot and smooth against one another, finally. “I wanted to remind you, over and over again that you were mine, and I was yours,” he whispered, then reached between them with his good hand and began to stroke their erections together, already trembling with pleasure. 

Will’s mouth dropped open as he was finally touched, his head canted back as he breathed out a groan of pleasure, hooking an ankle around the back of Hannibal’s thigh, flushed hot with pleasure. “Always yours.”

“As am I,” Hannibal promised with a soft moan, and dropped his panting, hot mouth to Will’s neck again as they were worked together, precome smearing and blending as their hearts raced. “As I recall, I was about to taste you when we were interrupted.”

Will huffed a hefty chuckle, and then bucked his hips into Hannibal’s hand, smearing wetness between their stiff erections. “You were…”

“I think it’s time to rectify that,” Hannibal whispered against Will’s collarbones, kissing them before he dragged his teeth over the bone, and worked his way down to Will’s heart, nuzzling the hard throb under his bone and muscle. 

“By being a tease?” Will asked, lowly, voice already rough with impending want and need, leg hooking around his thighs. 

“Is that what I am? I prefer to savor the experience, not rush into it, headlong,” Hannibal whispered and kissed his way down Will’s chest as he squeezed them with his hand, and then let go of their cocks to allow himself to sink down Will’s body. 

“By all means then,” Will whispered hoarsely, hips canting for more friction as Hannibal let, go, but didn’t beg for more, knowing he’d more than he bargained for soon enough.

Hannibal watched with hooded eyes as Will bucked into the air, arching and pressing against nothing, desperately. Will’s cock was rosy and stiff, as perfect as Hannibal had imagined many, many times. Hannibal’s shoulders shifted as he crawled down, and laid between Will’s thighs as he licked his hip bone slowly, then nuzzled at the dark patch of hair at the base of Will’s cock, taking in the musky, masculine scent of him before he dragged his tongue over the throbbing base, and up, toward Will’s tip.

Will let out a long sigh, quivering slightly as his cock was finally wetted and engulfed by Hannibal’s tongue and mouth, hot and perfect all at once. His hand went to the back of Hannibal’s head, holding him there as he pressed his heels into the mattress. “Good-”

Hannibal smirked, and dragged his tongue over the rounded, taught head of Will’s cock, through the pre-come that coated it. He could think of no more perfect way to use his saved tongue than this, to taste Will as intimately as possible, to make him writhe and gasp with it. He sucked Will down, slowly, with practiced grace and enveloped him in his hot, infamously dangerous mouth.

Toes curled into the sheets, fingers latching on to short strands of hair as Will breathed a little deeper through gasping groans of pleasure. Heat coiled in his belly, as dreams he once had started to color themselves into real life existence.

Hannibal hollowed his cheeks around Will’s cock as he sucked him slowly. His good hand sank to Will’s balls, caressing them as he swirled his mended tongue around Will’s shaft on the way back up to the tip, and met Will’s eyes for a moment, mouth full of him.

The sight was enough to almost bring Will to climax there, thick drops of pre-come filling the head of his cock, dripping on to Hannibal’s tongue. “Hannibal…” he sighed, another tug of silvery hair in his fist, not sure if it was to get him to keep going, or if he wanted  _ more _ .

Hannibal removed his mouth only to let Will watch his tongue caress the swollen head of his cock, wetting and rasping against it. The scar over where he was cut was raised and red, and Hannibal knew very well it would feel distinctive against Will’s nerves. 

Biting the inside of his lip, Will gasped at the feeling, the sight before him of  _ Hannibal  _ doing this to him, things only dreams were ever made of for Will, now fantasy turned into real life. He dug his feet into the bed and pressed his cock into Hannibal’s hot mouth again.

Hannibal groaned and took Will down again. His back flexed beautifully, muscle braiding under the branded skin as he bobbed his head around Will, slicking him thoroughly with his tongue and mouth. Will tasted incredible, heady and rich, just the perfect hint of salty and bitter.

Heat began to pool, and Will quickly lost control of his hips as Hannibal’s heated mouth sucked and lathed around his sensitive cock, huffing panting groans into the air, and clutching at Hannibal’s shoulders as Will started to see sparks behind his closed lids, ready to explode in a languid mess.

Hannibal was a devout devotee to luxurious pleasure in all it’s forms, and the way he worked his tongue and lips around Will was no exception. He skimmed ghostly touches of his teeth against the sensitive nerves, and then soothed the spots over with slow, wet passes of his velvety tongue. Hannibal’s fingers began to tease Will’s pucker, fingertips dancing over his nerves.

Will all but came out of his skin with the teasing touch there, and opened his eyes to look down at Hannibal, teeth gritted just slightly as he tried to stave off impending orgasm, sure that if he rode it out now he might be missing out. “Hannibal-”

Hannibal moaned again and pulled his mouth off of Will’s cock, which left it dripping and hard, the stuff of fantasies. He pulled Will’s legs over his shoulders and dragged his tongue and soft lips further south, beginning to taunt Will’s pucker with the tip of his tongue and his fingers at the same time.

“Fu-” Will started to swear but his voice was strained with tension as Hannibal seemed to find a new way to pleasure and tease him, his hips bucking down on his tongue, needy, wanting to feel more of what was offered.

Hannibal pulled Will’s body down, over and against his flickering tongue to begin to ease it inside Will, just a fraction of an inch before he looked up at him, panting with a gleam in his eyes to see Will sexually unhinged. “Yes?”

Will wasn’t sure what Hannibal was doing, and he’d never had it done to him before, but he definitely didn’t want it to end so soon. “Do-don’t stop…” he breathed, blue eyes vivid against the flush of his skin.

Will was stunning when he was fighting not to come, a feast for Hannibal’s senses laid out before him. “Should I tongue you until you come, Will?” Hannibal asked, sinking down again, with a shift of his wide shoulders under Will’s legs, and began to tongue him again.

Oh, God, was that even possible? Will felt like it had to be, because he was starting to feel the pools of pleasure bind and coil in his core again, his hips canted up where Hannibal pressed his shoulder against them, giving him no choice but to take the pleasure. “Yes-”

Hannibal’s tongue had healed already, mended and strong. He spread Will’s thighs with his shoulders and stroked his cock with one hand, slowly, then plunged his tongue deep into Will, wetting and stretching him with it.

It was all too much at once, and Will felt himself teeter right over the edge, trying to stifle his moan as he came in Hannibal’s hand and all over his own stomach and chest, hips bucking wildly.

Hannibal moaned into Will, and pulled away for a second, breathing hard as Will bucked and squirmed against the blankets. “You are a paragon of beauty,” he whispered, and looked over Will’s body before he began to lap at the come, cleaning Will slowly.

Will dropped his legs, spread apart, to the bed, and pulled Hannibal a little closer as his stomach and chest were licked clean. “I had no idea that could feel…”

“Men have explored the art of anal intercourse for millennia for a very good reason,” Hannibal whispered, and licked his lips as he looked up at Will, stunned by his disheveled beauty.

“Of course they have,” Will chuckled, the sound slipping past his lips. He tugged Hannibal in for a kiss, to taste himself on them, slowly exploring his mouth as he wrapped his long legs around Hannibal’s waist, feeling his still stiff erection against his thigh.

Hannibal sighed, able to feel Will’s warm, alluring body pressed against him, tempting.  He wound his own tongue around Will’s and rocked his hips, rutting against the round flesh of Will’s ass.

“What do you want,  Hannibal?” Will asked, between them, hushed and intimate, blue eyes gazing up into amber ones, seriously. “What can I do?”

Hannibal felt his voice catch in his throat for a moment as Will gazed up at him, and held him close with his legs. “To be inside you,” Hannibal whispered, breathless with lust at the thought.

Will would trust Hannibal knew how to do this far better than he did, and nodded his head, slowly. “Show me.”

Hannibal kissed Will for that, cupping the back of his head with his good hand to kiss him thoroughly and long, then stepped off the bed to find a small bottle of olive oil in a cupboard in the tiny kitchen, and came back with it. He realized he was trembling, and took his place again to lose himself in kissing Will’s mouth as he slicked his fingers. Will was shaking too, how could he not be, as Hannibal kissed him like that? Will spread his thighs to let the cannibal back into his orbit, to teach him and play him beautifully like an instrument, kissing him over and over again.

Hannibal’s fingers rubbed themselves slowly against Will’s ass, again, oiled this time, and hotter to the touch. He breathed against Will’s lips as he eased a slick finger inside Will’s tight body, letting Will become accommodated to the feeling of even a finger there before he added the second, and rocked them into Will’s body. Will was smooth, and hot inside, all unexplored flesh and surprisingly pleasurable shocks of nerve endings that had never been played before like this, by masterful fingers. Hannibal rocked and rubbed, crooking his long fingers inside Will to show him just what lay in store.

Will could imagine easily, letting his mind drift as Hannibal pressed and prodded against him, inside him, all while he groaned when fingertips brushed against a bundle of nerves and his cock seemed to spring back to life, filling all over again, growing heavy against his stomach.

Hannibal smiled against Will’s groaning mouth, and teased the sensitive little knot inside him with expert knowledge as he rocked and spread his fingers, opening Will a little more by the breathless second, working with his arousal to make it all seamless and comfortable for his first time. “Don’t be shy, Will, I adore hearing your voice,” Hannibal moaned as he let his fingers brush over and against the powerfully sexual spot he was certain Will had never contemplated inside his body before.

Will kissed and nipped at Hannibal mouths as his body writhed under his touch, not sure what to say, but the flush to his skin and the way moans escaped his mouth would be more than enough to urge Hannibal on. “Hannibal-”

Finally, Hannibal withdrew his fingers, and replaced them with his oiled, hard cock. He was shaking with lust as he pushed himself into Will, slowly his good arm wrapped under Will’s good shoulder to pull himself into Will’s body, completing their emotional union with a physical one.

Gasping,Will held tight to Hannibal’s shoulders as he was penetrated, feeling himself filled to the brink, all the way in until he was sure Hannibal couldn’t fit any further. Will’s mouth gaped open with a lewd gasp, fingers slithering up Hannibal’s neck to grip short hair once again. “There...”

Hannibal rested their profiles together, breathing slowly as he took a moment to feel Will like this, locked together before he rocked his hips, and moved in him. Hannibal’s dark eyes opened to look down at Will, adoring and primal at the same time, and he kissed Will’s mouth, hard, more demanding than before as they found their rhythm.

Will canted his hips up, meeting Hannibal half way, kissing him with abandon, harder and sloppier as he tried to catch his breath with each small thrust that slowly, gradually, turned faster, heating body to boil once again. They were conjoining, blurring around the edges, finally, where they belonged.

Lost in the absolute ecstasy of sex with Will, Hannibal’s eyes teared at the edges as they did when he was gripped by transcendent beauty. He moaned, the sound thick in his hairy chest as his hips snapped against Will’s ass and what was tender and careful began to turn feral and hot. “Will-” he managed, shedding his precious self-control to drop his head to Will’s shoulder, gasping and moaning hard as Will’s body squeezed around him, and Hannibal’s blunt nails dug into Will’s back.

Arms thrown over Hannibal’s shoulders, Will clung as they rutted together, feeling Hannibal deeper and deeper inside him, each pass tapping that sweet spot until Will felt like he was going to explode all over again. He tensed, gasping, moaning louder in Hannibal’s ear. “Harder, Please-”

Will demanding his touch, demanding the feeling of his cock was almost enough to make Hannibal come. He had to grit his jaw to stop himself, and gave Will what he wanted, hammering himself into Will’s body fast and hard enough that he swore he could feel them melting and fusing together, like two metals heated together to create an indestructible, gleaming alloy. “Will!” Hannibal snarled, shaking from the effort of holding himself back, dizzy with pleasure and love.

Will dragged Hannibal’s face down to his own, kissing him the best he could, mostly breathing raggedly against his lips as he hit his peak, growling out the last groan as his body tensed and throbbed around Hannibal, coming in white hot droves that shook his frame down to his core.

Hannibal was barely hanging on, and the feeling of Will erupting like that severed his resolve completely. He shouted in Lithuanian,  gasping a string of prayers and curses laced with Will’s name as light exploded behind his eyes and his ears rang, climaxing. When he could breathe again, Hannibal was laying over Will, shaking and coated in sweat, clinging to Will with his broken and whole arms alike. “Will…”

Will clung to Hannibal in return, sweaty, loose limbed and all. He breathed hard, catching his breath and gently pivoting his hips against Hannibal’s cock still inside him. “Mm,” he hummed.

Hannibal shuddered at the feeling, and held Will more tightly, eyes closed. He turned his head and kissed Will’s throat, the sweat making it salty, like the sea they had fallen into. “Many, many times, I have imagined doing that with you, Will.”

Will chuckled, and rolled so he laid a little over Hannibal now, having him slide out of him slowly, and then bent over the other man to kiss him softly, gazing down at him. “I never imagined it would be that good.”

“Sex with a man?” Hannibal asked, as he curled himself around Will, snuggling him as the boat rocked slowly on the ocean waves.

“I guess so, yeah,” Will said, and leaned and kissed Hannibal’s jaw. “With you. I imagined, but this has been much better than what I imagined.”

Hannibal laughed at that against Will’s cheek, and looked at him as he pulled the blankets up around them. “Did you imagine I would be unskilled and clumsy?”

“No,” Will whispered, relaxing against Hannibal, arm around him, head to his chest. “I was worried  _ I  _ would be.”

“You were anything but,” Hannibal assured Will, and nuzzled his nose against Will’s curls. “You were more perfect than my vivid imagination could ever have anticipated.”

“Good,” Will stated, quietly, and started to smell the the cooking fish, and laughed as he realized they had to check the oven. “Hold on.” He slipped out of the bed and pulled on his pants.

Hannibal frowned and sat up, then laughed, having forgotten all about that. He watched Will retrieve the dish, and basked in the air of post-coital domesticity. Will looked over his shoulder at Hannibal as he put the dish down on the stove, steaming hot and wonderful smelling.

“Hungry?”

“Quite, the rice should be finished as well,” Hannibal said, and began to climb out of bed, completely nude, gloriously so. All he wore was Mason’s brand.

Watching Hannibal, Will's  eyes scoured over the brand as Hannibal stood. He turned the rice off and found a few bowls to serve up their meal in, enough for the four of them.

Hannibal tied a plain apron around himself, washed his hands, and plated the rice and fish for the four inhabitants of the boat with a content smile. “Simple, but good. If you pull a shirt on, would you mind delivering these to Chiyoh and Hilde so that we may continue to enjoy our privacy here?”

Will smirked and tugged the button up shirt on over his shoulders. “Afraid of having me seen?” he teased, but kissed Hannibal on the lips once and gave his ass a smack where he was still bare. Hannibal chuckled at the slap Will gave his ass, and set a small table in the tiny living quarters for them both, still in nothing but the apron, since Will seemed to enjoy it so much.

Will took the plates and wandered out to the helm where the two women sat and placed a bowl in each of their hands. “Here you are.”

“Hannibal sent this?” Chiyoh asked as she took her dish, but nodded her gratitude to Will. Hilde took hers with a murmured thank you and a smile, and sat near Chiyoh as they began to eat together, happy for the hot meal.

“He did, I caught, he made it. Enjoy,” Will said, with a little nod, and went back inside, closing the door behind him. “That’s not a terrible look for you.”

Hannibal looked back at Will, over his shoulder, in much the same way Will looked at him when he chose to return to therapy after his release from the BSHCI. It was a look Hannibal would never forget, the beginning of a reckoning that ended in a bond even Will seemed not to have expected. “My wardrobe choices are somewhat limited at the moment,” Hannibal said, and pulled out Will’s chair for him, as though they were in a formal dining room.

Will sat and then reached over to touch Hannibal’s naked thigh. “We’ll have to fix that at the next port.”

“Shall we?” Hannibal asked with a smirk, and allowed himself to sink down, into Will’s lap for a moment, claiming his lips in a warm kiss as he straddled his thighs.

“We shall,” Will whispered as he kissed Hannibal back slowly, arms around his naked hips, only clad in the apron. “Mm.”

“Disguise is all part of being on the run. We shall have to select new identities, invent new masks behind which to hide,” Hannibal whispered between kisses, smirking at the grunt of pleasure Will gave at his improvised dinner attire.

“So it is,” Will hummed and kissed Hannibal a little deeper, running hands up his thighs under the apron. “What shall I become?”

Hannibal cupped Will’s handsome face with one hand, and kissed his lips before considering him again, like a sculptor looking over a masterpiece. “A dapper intellectual, perhaps with a moustache to make your memorable face more difficult to recognize,” Hannibal laughed, softly, and clung to Will with his thighs, a little more tightly. “What shall I become, Will?” Hannibal asked, with a sparkle in his eyes, well aware Will was going to suggest he try his best to look less refined.

“Something you aren't,” Will suggested, canting his head into Hannibal's hands. “Jeans, t-shirts…”

Hannibal wrinkled his nose at the suggestion, and laughed, then kissed Will’s throat. He was starving, but being held by Will, like this was more nourishing than dinner. “And stop shaving, I suppose? Spectacles? Heavy sweaters?”

“Spectacles?” Will laughed at the word, gazing up at Hannibal, and ran a hand down over his scruffy face. “Might suit you.”

“Might?” Hannibal chuckled, and turned his face against Will’s palm, then kissed his skin there, adoring the creases against his lips.

“You let me dress you, and I’ll let you dress me,” Will offered, striking a deal that they knew they’d both hate, and yet love at the same time.

“Knowing our diverse tastes, I think this could be a very high-stakes proposition,” Hannibal murmured, adoringly. He was curious to see how Will would transform him.

“I don’t think it’ll be that bad. I’ll grow the mustache. You grow out your hair a little,” Will suggested, touching the strands that were starting to grow out in length.

“When we get a razor, I’d be happy to shave you,” Hannibal whispered, and nuzzled Will’s jaw.

“An exercise of trust,” Will pointed out,  eyes half closed as he ran his hands up Hannibal’s naked thighs again, realizing how much he enjoyed  _ touching _ him.

Hannibal flexed his thighs under Will’s hands, and leaned closer to him, his body heating a little. “We shall see…”

Will kissed Hannibal slowly this time as his response, keeping them close as their fish breakfast, lunch, or whatever it was, went cold.

Will’s lips were worn smooth from being kissed so often, soft as rose petals now. Hannibal felt as though the world spun around them as they kissed, and every train of thought in his high-powered brain derailed abruptly at the sensation of Will wanting him. It was blissful, simple, and more powerful than anything Hannibal could imagine.

“I may be addicted to you,” the man possessed of nearly flawless control over everything he touched whispered. Will was his beautiful, wild, unmanageable vice.

“No one is stopping you,” Will whispered, aware that now they had let their guards down, they were honest with one another, and there was no holding back.

Hannibal wrapped flexible, long, bare legs around Will in the chair and hooked his ankles together, squeezing Will with his thighs as he began to run his hand under Will’s soft, blood-stained shirt. “We should soak this with hydrogen peroxide,” Hannibal whispered, as he peeled it off.

“Might help to be presentable later,” Will sighed, able to feel Hannibal’s whole body up against him under the apron, his own starting to react to every touch Hannibal laid on him.

Hannibal tossed Will’s shirt into the sink without looking away from Will for a moment, and kissed his lips, again, permitting himself to be a glutton for this particular delicacy. “Best to do your trousers as well…”

“You’ll need to get off me for those,” Will whispered against Hannibal’s mouth, biting at his bottom lip gently.

“What a shame,” Hannibal whispered, “if you had another pair, I may be tempted to rend them from your body, instead,” Hannibal whispered, and kissed the underside of Will’s jaw while he shifted in Will’s lap.

Will groaned, shifting ever so slightly up against Hannibal, head canted back, eyes half closed. “Unfortunate…”

“Each step forward in a journey has a cost,” Hannibal whispered as he unwrapped his legs from around Will and stood to undo Will’s pants with one hand, deftly, then admired his bare torso and hard cock as he tugged the fabric down Will’s hips, over his thighs, and straddled his lap, again. “A beautiful destination is worth paying them,” he sighed, bare flesh against bare flesh again.

Rough hands found their way around Hannibal’s hips again, across bare back, over raised flesh of the brand that only made the brunet hold a little tighter, possessively. Will bit into Hannibal’s shoulder, raring to leave his own mark, his claim on Hannibal.

Hannibal felt Will’s hands discover the brand Mason left in his skin, and the way he reacted, with almost wolfish jealousy, and gasped at the feeling of Will’s teeth in his skin. His good hand went to Will’s hair, and gripped it to hold Will there as he ground against Will slowly in his lap. “I cannot think of a more beautiful mark than the outline of your teeth, Will,” Hannibal whispered, breathlessly. “I was very nearly jealous of Cordell for having a wound from them, I’d like my own.”

Will growled against Hannibal’s skin, something sparking in him. He hadn’t realized he was so jealously possessive of the doctor. He grasped Hannibal tightly to him as his teeth sank in, skin popping gently under the weight of his bite, the tang of copper slipping past his lips as his sucked hard, bruising.

Hannibal moaned at that, and shuddered from his head to his hips, cock throbbing and hard against Will’s stomach. “Will, yes, harder-” he pleaded breathlessly, gasping through the sensation of Will eating him alive in such a manner. Biting down harder, Will sucked the taste of blood into his mouth with a groaning hum, arms possessively around Hannibal as he rolled his rutting hips up into Hannibal’s ass, hard again.

“Will-” Hannibal gasped, able to feel Will’s hard cock rub itself over the round of his ass, which was good enough to make Hannibal’s cock seep with pre-come.  Will’s teeth, his cock, the way he gripped Hannibal’s body were just as arousing as the way Will laid down for him in bed not an hour ago, two stunning sides of the same coin.

Bruising Hannibal’s skin, Will moved his teeth and lips to another part of Hannibal’s fine canvas, from neck to jaw, and then his lips, sharing in the taste of blood as their tongues and teeth lathed and clicked. Will held Hannibal tighter, slipping his cock between his ass, rubbing against his sensitive, puckered flesh there.

Hannibal moaned against Will’s mouth, devouring the taste of blood on his lips. He dug his blunt nails into the back of Will’s neck when he felt his cock, and Hannibal’s body flashed hot with lust, tensing and arching back. He managed a look into Will’s eyes, utterly overwhelmed, and flushed from head to toe in Will’s lap.

“Hannibal…” Will sighed against his mouth, the tip of his cock pressing hard against Hannibal’s entrance, slicking it with pre-come as he rolled his hips forward once again, holding on to him tightly, gazing up at Hannibal with intense need.

“Let me-” Hannibal whispered, his sentence broken with a groan. He bit his own lower lip, tempted to just sink down around Will, but doing so dry might make for an unpleasant first experience, for Will, at least. Hannibal would not have minded the pain at all. “Let me wet you…”

Will swallowed hard, and let go of Hannibal enough that he could move freely, but kept his hands on him anyway he could. “You’re sure?” Will asked, almost shaking with how much he wanted to feel Hannibal from the inside.

Hannibal sank to his knees, and answered by wrapping his mouth around Will’s cock, sucking and bobbing around him to wet Will, quickly, urgently, and then rose up and pressed his mouth to Will’s mouth, sharing the taste as he climbed into Will’s lap, again.

Will reached for the oil from the counter near them, and, wanting this to be as smooth as possible, and wrapped his arm around Hannibal tightly, and then slid shaking fingers against his entrance, oiled, pushing into him, slicking him enough. He then helped guide his own cock against the same spot, replacing fingers with it, slowly, never letting his gaze leave Hannibal’s as they conjoined once again.

Hannibal’s jaw dropped. He closed his eyes and let Will slide inside him, filling him, slowly. “Will-” Hannibal shivered and pressed himself down, more deeply, impaling himself on Will’s cock until Will was all the way inside him. “Did you imagine this?”

“No,” Will whispered, though now he wondered why he hadn’t ever imagined this as he grasped Hannibal tighter, holding him around his hips as he shifted weight to his heels to press up tight into his heated body.

Hannibal gave Will an almost punishing kiss to the lips as his thighs began to flex, and he rode Will, smoothly, expertly, like he had already planned out exactly how to do it in his mind. “I have, countless times,” Hannibal moaned, and tore the apron off, frustrated with any barrier between them, then threw it behind the chair as he drove Will deeper and deeper into his body.

“You have?” Will was surprised, but relieved all at once as he gripped Hannibal possessively, watching the way his torso flexed with every movement, starting to breathe a little harder as they both pushed forward effort to connect.

“I have imagined you inside me, myself inside you in every possible way,” Hannibal moaned, and smiled, dropping his head back as Will began to thrust inside him. “There-” he whispered, basking in the feeling of Will clutching and screwing him like this.

“Let’s bring some of those to life,” Will whispered, panting the words against Hannibal’s throat, squeezing up through his thighs as he drove up into Hannibal with every downward roll of the doctor’s hips, heat building in his lower back already.

Hannibal opened his eyes, and ground himself down against Will, harder, sweating now, the beads of sweat rolling into the brand in his skin, glossing it over. “We already have,” Hannibal moaned, and gripped Will’s curls with his good hand, suddenly and almost desperately. “Harder,” he gasped, able to feel himself teetering on the blissful edge of unraveling, and he wanted Will to push him all the way.

Will pressed up harder, pulling Hannibal down around him as he did, getting in as deep as he could, all but falling apart himself, able to feel Hannibal start to throb around him, grasping at his cock. “Hannibal-”

Hannibal didn’t need Will to touch his cock, the feeling of Will fucking him harder was more than enough, but the feeling of Will’s hand on him sent Hannibal reeling. His breath hitched and he almost shouted as light exploded behind his closed eyes and he erupted over Will’s hand, in his lap, shuddering and whispering Will’s name over and over, almost chanting it before his head fell onto Will’s shoulder, back heaving.

The pull of Hannibal coming brought Will right to the edge as he groaned and panted against Hannibal’s shoulder in turn, messy and heated, limbs languid and yet stiff around each other as their bodies melded together once again, inseparable.

Just as they had on the cliffside, Hannibal and Will clung to one another, panting and sweating. Hannibal nuzzled Will’s face, and swallowed hard before he looked into his eyes. “That was beautiful.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) No beta. light editing work  
> 2) We don't claim to know anything about bouts or sailing, we did what research we could, so bear with us, guys.  
> 3) Ya'll know ya like bear!Hannibal...  
> 3) Hey look we finished it, it's 8 chapters! One for everyday we posted. Hooaahh!

Days later, they reached Barbados. Hannibal and Will spent their time in bed when Will was not catching fish, and Hannibal was not cooking them for the four occupants of the small, but livable boat. Chiyoh and Hilde were sent onto the island with a long list of what Hannibal and Will would require before they could be seen in public, and in short measure, Chiyoh returned to drop the bags off, then left again to look for a new boat. 

Hannibal took the bags from Chiyoh, thanking her graciously, and brought the bags to Will with a relieved sigh. After so many days at sea, they both looked rather wild, and wore clothing that was still stained with blood, despite Hannibal’s best efforts with their limited resources to clean them. “Our supplies have arrived, Will.”

“I can’t imagine what she’s picked out for us to wear,” Will quipped lightly, but with a smile that suggested he was far from upset. “A razor too, I hope…”

“A few of them. I sent her with a very, very specific list,” Hannibal said as he approached Will with the bags and laid out their new clothing on the bed. Will had a pair of trousers and a vest, in a linen color with a white shirt, and a hat to match, something very stylish. Hannibal set out a pair of jeans with long legs, a thin grey t-shirt, a pair of glasses for himself.  

Will looked over the clothes with a smile. “This will take some getting used to.” He fingered the clothes and stripped out of his old ones, leaving them in a pile to be discarded later on. He started with the new pants, and then socks.

Hannibal smiled as he watched Will, and did the same with his own clothes after a disdainful look at the jeans. “It certainly will. Once disguised, we can go aboard the island, buy what we need for our voyage, and set sail, alone,” he said, as he pulled the denim on, and made a face at the coarse material that clung to his thighs, and the curve of his ass. He pulled the t-shirt on, which was snug, but clean, and left it untucked as he added socks and a pair of worn boots. “A temporary sacrifice.”

“Well, until we find our last settling place,” Will said, tugged the shirt on and buttoned himself up, and then the vest. He slid his feet into the boots and knelt to tie them up, and then helped Hannibal with his boots, since he was one handed and all.

Hannibal allowed Will to dote, admiring him with a smile as he was assisted. “Perhaps I should have helped you to shave before you dressed.”

“I’ll throw a towel over my shirt?” Will suggested, brows raised up at Hannibal, and stood slowly, hands on his waist, feeling the soft fabric there from the expensive shirt.

“That might do,” Hannibal agreed, and led Will into the very small bathroom with the razors, a bottle of shaving foam, and a small pair of scissors. He ran warm water over a facecloth as Will draped a towel over his chest. “I could manage a much better job with a better razor, of course, better foam…”

“We’ll get that all later, for now, this will be fine,” Will insisted, sitting on the edge of the sink, trusting Hannibal completely to give him a makeover. Hannibal moved in front of Will, and wrung the cloth out with his good hand, then laid it over Will’s stubble to soften the hairs a little, then picked up and opened the drugstore razor with a sigh, and shook his head at the low quality. “I would do this with a scalpel instead, if I had one. As I said, only temporary,” he assured Will as he removed the hot cloth, and spread foam with his hands before he began to shave in short, precise strokes. “Raise your chin, please…”

Will did, ever so slightly, keeping his sea blue gaze fixed on Hannibal, all the trust in the world as he all but bared his throat to Hannibal. “I’m sure you’ll do fine with this terrible razor either way, Hannibal.”

Hannibal just hummed to himself as he focused, doing as perfect a job as he could with the shoddy razors. “You truly have a remarkable face, Will. It’s difficult to imagine anything that would not suit you.”

“I’m fairly certain this mustache you want to give me is not going to be suitable,” Will chuckled, trying to keep as still as possible. The stitches in his cheek had long since been removed, and the spot healed over nicely, though still pink.

“As suitable as the burlap trousers I’m wearing,” Hannibal grumbled as he rinsed the razor under the tap water, and began to use scissors to shape Will’s moustache for him.

Will tried not to smile or move when Hannibal got to work, but touched his hip with a squeeze of his fingers. “You look relaxed.”

“I feel rather ridiculous in this outfit, and I spent three years wearing a white jumpsuit. That is rather something,” Hannibal murmured, but smiled at the touch to his hip.

“I like you better in jeans than the jumpsuit,” Will admitted with a soft, upward curl of his lip, not messing up Hannibal’s handy work. Hannibal smiled back as he finished his work, and used a cloth to dust off Will’s face, and throat, then admired him. 

“I have no plans to return to institutional clothing. I’ll make due with the denim, for now. Have a look,” Hannibal said, and took the towel from off of Will’s chest.

Will turned his shoulders to look in the mirror, and almost laughed. It wasn’t terrible looking, but it was  _ different _ . “It could be worse.”

“It could look much, much worse,” Hannibal said with a little glare at Will’s begrudging compliment, and rested his chin on Will’s good shoulder as he wrapped both arms around Will’s chest. “Once I comb your hair, and you wear sunglasses outdoors with a hat, no one will recognize you.”

Will hadn’t meant Hannibal’s handy work on the mustache at all. He kissed Hannibal’s jaw for it, either way, and slipped down off the counter, wrapping arms around him. “I’ll look like some 90s porno star.”

Hannibal chuckled and hugged Will back, then kissed the side of his throat, and picked up a comb with which to neaten Will’s wild curls. “I see. Have you been watching that much of it that you’re familiar with it’s style by decade?” Hannibal teased.

Will glowered a little at Hannibal through long strands of hair as he parted and combed it down for him. “Do I seem like the kind of guy that watches a lot of porn?” he implored.

Hannibal smirked at him, and shook his head. “Not with that incredible imagination you have, there’s no need,” he pointed out, and perfected Will’s dark hair.

“My point,” Will sighed, and then stopped Hannibal from over combing his hair and kissed him quickly on the lips. “Are you shaving, too, or letting it grow?”

Hannibal sighed, and looked at himself in the mirror. He had heavy stubble over his jaw and down his neck. “Perhaps just a trim so that I do not look like a castaway, but not quite like Dr. Lecter, either.”

“I like it,” Will said, touching Hannibal’s thick scruff. But, Will liked all of Hannibal, like this or not, he’d never cared what the other man looked like.

“I look like a bear after hibernation,” Hannibal muttered, and picked up the trimming scissors and another razor.

Will raked hands down Hannibal’s shirt clad chest and nipped his lips. “ _ My _ bear.”

It was very rare that Hannibal laughed spontaneously, and aloud, but it was always when Will did or said something to surprise him that he managed. This was one of those times. “Your bear? Really?” Hannibal chuckled, and kissed Will as he set down the scissors and razor.

“Really,” Will whispered against Hannibal’s mouth, kissing him long and hard before letting go. “Trim up, I’m starved for real food.”  


Hannibal stared into Will’s eyes, happily, and kissed his smooth, hairless jaw before he made himself refocus on trimming down his stubble. “It will not take long, I am not trying to achieve a manicured appearance,” Hannibal said thoughtfully, and looked at Will in the mirror. “I think you would have enjoyed what I wore in France, before I took up the name of Dr. Fell, after I left Dr. Lecter behind. I was nameless and without a mask. It was a strange sensation after spending so long in a three-piece suit.”

“And why is it I would have enjoyed it?” Will asked, head canted at Hannibal as as he watched him manicure and groom himself into another person entirely.

“You seem to enjoy the way I look in a t-shirt and denim. I think you would have enjoyed seeing me ride a motorbike in a leather jacket and fitted pants with boots and gloves to complete the ensemble,” Hannibal mused, and stole a look at Will as he kept working.

“You tease,” Will grinned, shaking his head slowly. “That’s what I missed out on? A shame I was back in Baltimore in a coma.”

“It may have brought you out of your coma,” Hannibal chuckled, and put the scissors down, then looked at himself in the mirror with a shift of his jaw, and back at Will. “Of course, it would likely have been to punch me, square in the face,” he said, and turned to look at Will.  “I detested myself for missing you, in those days.”

“That’s okay, I detested you, too,” Will rationalized, and slid down off the counter, smoothing his hair down with one hand. “Ready?”

Hannibal donned the glasses Chiyoh had purchased, a pair of novelty frames worn by tourists who wanted to look hip for photos to send home. They seemed to suit Hannibal’s face, as though they were made with him in mind, and accented his dark, dark eyes. “Ready.”

Will left the room, quietly, and then out to the deck, quiet now, just the rolling of soft waves and birds in the distance. “Where to?”

“Into town, just long enough to purchase what we’ll need for a voyage south, and then back to what is now our boat,” Hannibal said as he stepped on stable land for the first time in what felt like too long. Barbados was vibrant, as perfectly tropical as any postcard could ever make it seem. 

Will hooked his arm into Hannibal’s as they started their walk toward the town, strange to be on dry land once more, he found his footing off at first, but quickly managed. It felt too much like setting foot in Italy for the first time after months on the NOLA.

People looked up at the two men, then back at whatever they were doing, if they gave the tourists a second glance at all. Hannibal smiled to himself, and led Will to a stand that sold fresh fruit and selected many of them, smelling the skins before he filled a paper bag with mangos and strange looking cherries. A dog barked from an alley, then went back to playing with a stick. “No dogs,” Hannibal said aloud, without even looking up.

Hannibal’s ‘no’ wasn’t even heard yet when Will turned to look, hands in his pockets. While Hannibal picked fruit, Will slowly made his way over to the alley, hand out to pet the dog. “Hi, there…” He never knew how much he  _ missed _ his dogs until that moment.

The scruffy, little tan dog wiggled when Will got closer and leaned into the touch to his dirty fur. He was bony under his coat, obviously homeless and lonely. He seemed to be alone, save for the well-chewed stick, and he smelled Will’s palms, hopeful for a treat. Hannibal paid for the fruit and looked over at where Will had gone, then sighed, and followed him. “You have been on land less than five minutes, and have found a stray. I have to assume that is a record.”

Will picked the boney thing up and snuggled him. “He’s malnourished, Hannibal,” he stated, letting the dog lick his chin.

“I’m sure most of the dogs on this island are malnourished,” Hannibal sighed as the scruffy pup licked Will and wagged with almost frantic joy to be picked up and held. “We will be on a boat for a very, very long time…”

“I can make a bathroom area for him,” Will said, tryingly, the dog licking at his mustache and whimpering at Hannibal, both of them with the same puppy eyes.

“On the deck?” Hannibal asked, skeptically,  as the dog ruffled most of Hannibal’s careful grooming of Will with his little pink tongue, obviously very, very happy to have someone pick him up and hold him. “Where will he go if we sail through a storm? We can get a dog once we’ve reached our final destination.”

Will’s whole mood seemed to downshift from there, and he set the dog down, and gave him a good pet and the last of jerky he had kept in his pocket, and then walked away. It was not worth the fight with Hannibal right now, even if he could figure something out. Dogs on boats were difficult, that much was true.

Hannibal watched Will put the dog down, who whimpered in protest, but gobbled the last of the jerky, hungrily. Hannibal watched the slump of Will’s shoulders, and the way the light went out in his eyes, and heaved a sigh before he walked into the alley, and picked up the dog, carrying him at arm’s length, since he was dirty.

_ Molly _ let Will have dogs, after all, Hannibal reasoned. He couldn’t very well begin to lose the inevitable mental competition between them.

“He can earn his keep by keeping seagulls from messing the deck,” Hannibal said, as he caught up to Will.

Will smiled, brows raised as he took the dog from Hannibal, and held him where Hannibal wouldn’t. “Thank you,” Will said quietly, petting the dog down. “We’ll need to see if we can find slabs of grass, could be fake, too. That would work best for him to go on.”

Hannibal watched as the scruffy pup wagged again and licked Will’s chin, overjoyed that he was not being left behind. His little tail was wagging so quickly that it was nearly invisible. “You are the expert. I have never had a dog … before.”

“You have a dog now. You can name him,” Will suggested, as they walked, looking for a shop that might have what they need, dog food included, though he’d prefer to make it, he’ll take what they can get for now.

“Really?” Hannibal asked as the dog looked at him with shiny eyes, wagging at Hannibal now, licking the air since he couldn’t reach Hannibal’s face. “I can name him anything at all?”

“Yeah, anything you want,” Will said, not one to judge since he had a dog named Ramen once.

“Encephalitis,” Hannibal smirked, with a troublesome gleam in his dark eyes, and even reached forward to pet the dog’s head. The dog seemed to love Hannibal with the devotion of a stray, and wagged even harder against Will’s chest.

“You want to name him after an illness?” Will asked, brows raised over at Hannibal.

“An illness that brought us closer together,” Hannibal said, his smirk growing as Encephalitis wagged harder and then licked Will’s ear, with frantic joy.  “He approves, don’t you, Encephalitis?”

As the dog wagged harder and more excited, Will didn’t have the heart to tell Hannibal no. “I recall it being an illness that eventually got me hospitalized…” He shrugged his slim shoulders. “Cephi for short?”

“He appears to be male. I would rather he is called Cepho, than Cephi,” Hannibal reasoned, and ushered Will into a sizeable general store, where Hannibal took a basket and began to fill it with the ingredients that caught his eye. “He will, regardless of what we call him, need a bath. At least one, if not several.”

“And a flea dip,” Will offered, smiling at how Hannibal was taking ownership of the dog, right down to his name.

Hannibal looked horrified at the term. “Flea … dip?” he asked, eyebrows raised over his glasses as he put bundles of fresh herbs in his basket, and headed to the wine. “Where does one purchase such a thing?”

“I don’t know around here, but a pet store usually,” Will suggested. “A shampoo for fleas would be ideal and then a flea collar or medication to keep them off him.”

“Are you certain you should be holding him?” Hannibal asked, and took a cart that an employee offered them then began to select wines, loading them up for the long trip before they headed to the butcher’s section of the store.

“Doesn’t have a leash,” Will said, not wanting to chase after the dog through the whole store.

“Will you have to wear a flea collar as well?” Hannibal asked with a little concern before he pointed out the items he wanted to the butcher behind the counter.

Will gave Hannibal a look. “I’ll shower and it’ll be fine as long as we get his under control,” Will answered, “I’ll go see if they have pet supplies here.”

“Hopefully, if not, there must be a veterinarian clinic somewhere,” Hannibal said, and ordered a few soup bones and an extra leg of lamb, sure that Will would insist on the dog eating as well as they did.

Will smiled a little at Hannibal, and started to wander the store, looking for pet supplies. They had an aisle of dog and cat items, thankfully, so Will grabbed a leash and collar, and the only kind of flea medication on the shelf. It would do.

Hannibal found Will, the cart now full to the brim with supplies, and touched Will’s back with one hand. “We are stocked for the next few weeks,” he murmured, and grimaced at the puppy kisses he received over Will’s shoulder.

“Do we need canned dog food, or do we have enough meat that I can make his meals?” Will asked, looking over the cart of things as he put the collar and leash on Ceph and put the tags in the cart.

“I’ve bought enough meat that we can make something better for him. I think most canned food barely counts as food, honestly,” Hannibal said, headed to the cash desk with their purchases.

“It’s terrible for the dogs too,” Will said, “I always made their food back home...”

“Of course you did, only the best for the pack, even if you lived on cold ham, and peanut butter sandwiches,” Hannibal said as he unloaded the cart slowly, one handed.

Will set the dog down now that he was leashed, and handed the other end to Hannibal, and started to load the belt instead. “Exactly.” Will saw dogs as equals, and they deserved to eat the way he did. One dog wouldn’t be too hard to make food for either.

The dog stayed close to them, and leaned against Will’s leg. The little pup wagged so hard that his entire body was wiggling as they paid for everything, and Hannibal took as many bags as he could. “I’m sure that his coat will improve with a good diet, as well. We should take these back to the boat, and return for clothing. I can select yours, you may select mine.”

“Deal,” Will said, with a grin, and got the rest of the bags, carried them out of the store, and back toward the dock. Will’s arms were full, but he managed to keep tabs on the new dog. Encephalitis, or Cepho, trotted behind Will happily, not about to go anywhere without his new people who had fed him and carried him out of the alleyway. He was clearly already attached, even without the leash. 

It only took a moment to reach the boat, unlock it, and load the groceries in. Hannibal set the dog-bathing treatments near the kitchen sink with a long pair of rubber gloves, and a look at the little dog, who was sniffing the dark, lacquered floor of the living quarters with great interest before he found a bag containing some meat, and tried to crawl into it.

Will laughed and picked the dog up and set him in the sink with a bottle of tear free shampoo. “I’ll hold him down if you want to scrub him?” Will offered to Hannibal, trying not to laugh at all the protection he’d armed himself with for the task.

Hannibal wrapped his apron around himself, then thought better of it and peeled off his t-shirt, and put the apron on over his bare chest while he ran the water in the sink so that it was warm. “Don’t dogs usually appreciate water?” Hannibal asked as he brought towels in from the bathroom, and set them next to the sink.

“Some. Not all dogs want to be bathed though. I’m sure he won’t mind,” Will said. He gently scooped some over the dog, and Cepho began to lick it off Will’s fingers instead. 

Hannibal donned the gloves, and used his good hand to squeeze some of the shampoo over Cepho, and began to wash him slowly while the pup shivered a little, nervous, but staying still. “Very good, stay in the sink,” Hannibal praised quietly. “Once you are clean, you may have some lunch while we go into town again.”

Will chuckled under his breath at Hannibal, but pet the dog to reassure him everything was going to be fine. “I think he likes you.”

“I hardly have a way with dogs,” Hannibal said, dismissively, but chuckled at the way the pup closed his eyes as Hannibal gave his scruffy back and ears a little massage with the shampoo. “Does this mean he’s enjoying a bath?” Hannibal asked, amused at the pup’s response to his first taste of being groomed. 

Dirt seemed to pour off of the pup with the suds, and Hannibal rinsed him over and over, massaging more warm water and shampoo into his fur while the puppy seemed to almost fall asleep to the point that Hannibal had to prop his chin up with his covered cast. “Stay awake,” he laughed, charmed that the now clean dog wanted to have a nap in his warm bath.

“He’s really enjoying it,” Will laughed, and went to get a towel for the cleaning washed pup, taking him out of the sink once he was done being bathed, and toweled him off, slowly, making sure he was nice and dry for the flea treatment.

What looked like black grit washed down the sink, at which Hannibal wrinkled his nose, and picked up the bottle of flea dip, reading the back of it quickly before he began to prepare the mixture in a wash bucket he found beneath the sink. “He is small enough that we shall dip him in the solution, save for his head, of course,” Hannibal murmured, beginning to regard the little pup as a patient, rather than a pest. 

“That’s fine. It’ll be quick.” Will wiped the dog’s ears for him, and held Cepho again, Will’s face was licked right away, as if the dog couldn’t stand not to give his rescuer kisses of frantic gratitude.

Hannibal smiled a little at that, and held his arms out for the dog, to dip him in the solution, which he made sure was warm, but not hot. “If you could guard his head from being splashed or submerged, I can manage dipping him,” Hannibal said, tolerating a few licks to his chin from the now golden-colored puppy.

Will carefully set the dog in Hannibal’s arms, careful of the cast, not wanting the dog to get skittish and hurt Hannibal. He knelt down by the bucket of dip and nodded. “Put him in and I’ll hold his head up.”

Hannibal tilted his face out of range of the pup’s frantic kisses, and crouched with him, helping him into the flea bath very slowly, murmuring to the little thing in his arms in Italian to keep him calm. Sure enough, Cepho just gave a little sigh in the hot bath, and relaxed in Hannibal’s grip as he was held in the solution for a moment, eyes closing again at the warmth, which made Hannibal laugh aloud. “He must think he’s gone to a spa, perhaps we’ll file his nails for him, too and trim his hair…”

Another chuckle escaped Will's mouth at the thought, but mostly at Hannibal, watching him care for the animal and yet try not to enjoy it. “He might need his nails trimmed, actually…”

Hannibal pulled the dog out of the dip solution, and put him in the kitchen sink again, so that the solution did not dirty the floor. The dip itself was now full of fleas, and Hannibal sighed as he brushed his gloved hand through the dog’s fur, and watched as more fleas came out with the motion.  “Perhaps we’ll purchase a manicure set while we’re out,” Hannibal murmured, and blotted Cepho with a dry towel. “ _ Enzo _ may suit him a little more, so far as nicknames go.”

The pup tried to turn his head to lick himself dry, but Hannibal stopped him with a tut, and kept blotting the excess solution from his fur. “If you could watch him, I’ll prepare something for him so that he can eat while we’re out.”

A light seemed to turn on inside of Will as a watched Hannibal grow fond of the dog. “Enzo it is.” Will held the dog in the sink , until he was dry.

Hannibal removed his gloves, washed his hands, and began to prepare a little bowl of ham and some leftover rice for the dog. He set it down for Enzo, who Will finally let go of, and watched as the skinny puppy gobbled it up.

Will, hands on his hips, watched, and then looked over at Hannibal. “He should be okay as long as we keep the door shut and locked.”

“If he has survived on the streets of Barbados, I’m sure he will be happy here,” Hannibal agreed. He made a small bed from their blood-stained clothing in a box, then stood with Will. “Shall we?”

Will gave Enzo one last pat on the head, and then opened the door, holding it for Hannibal. “Sooner the better.”

Hannibal and Will left Enzo to eat and sleep, and headed back into the portside town to find clothing. Hannibal polished his glasses on his shirt, and put them back on. “I had no idea they were such a nuisance.”

“Easily smudged, they collect dust…” Will smiled over at Hannibal. “There’s good reason I stopped wearing mine.” He leaned over and fixed them on Hannibal’s face. “There.”

Hannibal smiled, and leaned down to steal a kiss from Will, softly, and nuzzled him before he took Will’s hand in his own. “I thought I saw a store that might stock something appropriate for you, down this street.” Hannibal could almost smell high-fashion clothing, like a shark could smell blood.

“Of course you did,” Will murmured, mostly to himself. He took Hannibal’s arm, fingers soft on the edge of his cast there, as they walked toward the shop.

Hannibal beamed as Will took his arm like that, and walked into the store with him, which smelled clean, every display immaculate. Hannibal walked to a rack of shirts, and touched the arm of one of the garments. “This, in blue, and also in white would be very nice on you. A vest, perhaps, two jackets, cashmere sweater for cool days…”

“Will it be very cool where we are going?” Will asked, simply, and started to load his arms with things that were in his size, in the colors and styles Hannibal insisted on.

Although they were disguised, Hannibal was careful, and nodded at Will as he chose three pairs of fine trousers for him. There was no need for Will to try them on, Hannibal had Will’s size etched in his memory like a holy set of coordinates; the clothing would fit, perfectly. “It certainly can be, it depends on where you venture,” Hannibal said, vaguely, and brought a tie to Will, holding it against his chest with a smile. “Perfect. One of these in black, green, and blue with matching pocket squares, and a smart pale grey suit.”

“Pocket squares?” Will wrinkled up his nose at the thought, having never dressed this much up in a long, long time, if ever. He grabbed the ties, and put them in his pile in his arms, until a woman came to help them and Will asked her to set them at the register for him while they went to look at suits.

“One does want a hint of color, after all,” Hannibal said with a smirk, and took a light scarf, another hat, and two pairs of thin, but soft leather gloves for Will’s hands, having fun as he dressed him as he had always longed to.

Will only wished he would have this much fun dressing Hannibal, but with what he had in mind, it’d be the easiest thing to do and Hannibal wouldn’t need much at all. “Are you having fun?” he sighed, arms nearly full, yet again with all the accessories.

“I am, in fact, having a wonderful time, thank you,” Hannibal said as he considered a grey suit that would match the pale, almost silvery rings in the irises of Will’s eyes, and set it on the pile that had accumulated on the counter. “I think that will do for now, at least. I do wish we had more time, perhaps somewhere like Paris, or Milan…”

Rolling his eyes, Will motioned to the shoes. “Let’s not forget the essentials, unless you expect me to wear boots with these nice suits.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Hannibal sighed, and examined the two rows of very nice leather dress shoes on display before he selected two pair, and asked for them in Will’s size from a clerk who had come to help them. Thankfully, this was a port town popular with wealthy tourists who enjoyed lavish spending sprees, Hannibal was certain their behavior would hardly stand out as memorable. “I don’t think you’ll require a set of pajamas,” Hannibal murmured, looking Will over.

A pointed look at Hannibal, and Will sighed. “Is that a request or an observation?”

“A prediction, if you must know,” Hannibal purred as he stepped closer while their purchases were rung up at the till, and everything was packed for them, carefully. “But if you insist, I can select something suitable. Perhaps silk?”

“I’d rather just wear what I usually wear,” Will whispered, pressing back in against Hannibal as his new attire was run up and bagged carefully. 

Hannibal felt Will press back against him, and closed his eyes. “A thin t-shirt and an obscenely small pair of boxers?” he whispered, well aware of exactly what Will slept in.

“You find my boxers too small?” Will asked, moving his head just enough to see Hannibal over his shoulder. “Or are you hoping?”

“I think your boxers were always the perfect size,” Hannibal murmured, as his eyes caught Will’s through the glasses. He kissed the side of his jaw, and presented a card that Chiyoh had the foresight to bring with her when she rescued them, it was linked to a very, very well-funded account in Switzerland, and cleared the amount of their spree in an instant. “Perhaps you can borrow from my wardrobe after dark.”

“Mm,” Will hummed and took up the bags as Hannibal signed for the merchandise. He started out, waiting for Hannibal to follow. “It’s a good thing your wardrobe won’t be as extensive as mine. We’d never get it back to the boat.”

“What do you mean?” Hannibal asked, and took a few bags in his good hand, and left with Will. “I will need clothing, enough to last a few weeks…”

“Yes, but hardly as complicated,” Will pointed out, as they left to wander a bit, looking at the shops until Will found one that had more casual type of clothing and steered Hannibal into there. “You won’t need ties or pocket squares. Shirts, jeans, maybe some khakis.”

Hannibal stepped into the store that was lit with fluorescent lighting overhead, and crammed with racks of factory-made men’s ware. He grimaced, and turned to give Will an appealing look. “I think, perhaps, we’ve found their off-the-rack selection. That’s not necessary, is it?”

Will blinked at Hannibal, not really sure what he meant, and continued to guide him toward the men’s section, selecting a few plaid shirts in shades of blues, some solid button ups, and a few t-shirts. He added in a few sweaters, nothing too heavy, and then piled on jeans that were so basic, he knew Hannibal must be dying inside.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes as Will kept piling the cheaply made, ugly clothing into his arms, and shot him a look at the dreadful choices. “None of this will fit.”

Will sighed heavily and looked over at Hannibal as he set a pair of khaki’s into the pile on the cart they’d taken. “Why is that?”

“It’s all mass-produced, and you have no idea as to my size,” Hannibal murmured, frowning at the notion of a cart for clothing. He looked around, hoping to find something … perhaps a rack of neglected dress shirts, perhaps a doorway to a  _ real _ clothing store where sizes were not small, medium, and large for everything. 

“You’re a large, because of your broad shoulders,” Will said, holding up one of the shirts to Hannibal. “Your pant size isn’t hard to tell, I’ve seen your trousers.” Will held his cool for now, trying not to take offense, though it was hard when it seemed Hannibal hated the very thing Will essentially was: common.

Hannibal sighed, and looked at the shirt Will held up. It felt like something Hannibal might wipe a counter with. He undid the buttons and slid it on over his t-shirt, reluctantly.

“Are you pouting?” Will asked, helping Hannibal into the shirt with his broken arm, carefully. It fit perfectly over his shoulders, the light blues in the pattern were lovely against Hannibal’s tanned skin.

“Of course not, pouting is a childish waste of time,” Hannibal said, but seemed not to mind as much when Will fussed over him a little, and helped him dress. He looked at himself in the mirror with a sigh, and touched the fabric. “Your shirts always felt much softer than this, does that come with wear?”

“I had owned mine for a long time,” Will explained. “These are new and could use a nice washing with fabric softener, but I don’t think we’ll have that luxury just yet.” Will smoothed the shirt down and buttoned it to be sure it fit over Hannibal’s chest perfectly.

Hannibal looked down at the shirt, which admittedly, was not quite as shapeless on as he thought it might be. It was designed to look flattering on average men. Hannibal was decidedly not average. “It is a change from what I might usually wear. Most disguise is nothing but a self-portrait, I suppose this disguise is my admission that we have, indeed, blurred,” Hannibal whispered.

“And it is only fair you wear what I pick out since I’ll be doing the same,” Will pointed out, matter of factly, and smiled as Hannibal seemed to admire the fit on himself. Will put a few more in different light colors in their cart.

“Are you having fun, Will?” Hannibal asked as he turned to look at the back of the shirt, and smirked at Will over the top of the glasses balanced on his regal nose, then touched a folded shirt where a stack lay in a messy pile on a bench nearby. “Dressing me in whatever you want?”

“Weren’t you having fun doing the same?” Will asked, pushing their cart, he found a jacket for Hannibal, light olive green in color and light enough, not too heavy. “Boots?”

“Boots will be necessary,” Hannibal sighed, and cringed a little at the jacket, but said nothing. In order to make the disguise convincing, he could not wear anything that he might have preferred to wear. It would be worth it for a lifetime with Will.

Will tugged on Hannibal’s good hand and pushed the cart with the other, to the shoes, where they had rows and rows of different kinds of boots and not one pair of loafers or dress shoes. “I think brown would be an okay color. Dirt won’t show much on them.”

“Brown,” Hannibal sighed, and selected a pair that felt heavy. He could see the uneven stitching on the leather, and tiny lines of stray glue, but a disguise was a disguise. He sat on a metal stool, of sorts, and slipped the boots on, then stood, even taller than usual in them. “These carry the unexpected advantage of distorting my height.”

“They usually have a pretty thick heel on them so that if you step on a nail or something, you won’t feel it,” Will explained, “Not that I think you’ll have that problem…”

“Likely not,” Hannibal chuckled, and stepped closer to Will, now another inch taller than Will was to begin with. “Unless I begin to make a habit of crucifying the rude,” he whispered, and touched Will’s waist, fingers skimming the fine fabric of his dapper lover’s shirt.

Will had to look up now to meet Hannibal’s gaze, and smiled at him, reaching fingers in against the new shirt he was wearing, and snapped the tag off to put with their other purchases. “I think we’re set.”

“Very well,” Hannibal said, as he noticed the look in Will’s eyes that was somehow more intrigued since he had slipped the t-shirt and jeans on at the boat, even more now with boots. Hannibal bent over, gracefully and slowly, and snapped the tag off of the boots so that he could wear them outside, and headed to the till. “Perhaps I will grow my hair, something absurdly shaggy.”

Will rolled his eyes at that. “Might be forced to, I’m not very good with trims,” Will chuckled, and pushed the cart to the front, where he loaded everything onto the counter to be rung up. Here, the clothes were taken off hangers and put into big, reuseable bags, folded nicely.

Hannibal took the bags, and headed back out into the street with a soft smile at the way the two of them looked together in the reflection of a store window. “I barely recognized us,” Hannibal murmured, nodding at the couple in the makeshift mirror.

“Good,” Will simply said, and carried most of their bags, back to the boat, and then opened it back up and set everything down inside the tiny hull.

The puppy barked as soon as the door opened, and he jumped up to run to his people, wagging and barking at them happily, as though they had returned from war. Hannibal gave the now dried off dog a look, but smiled as he set the bags down. “We were not gone that long…” he murmured, and looked in the dog’s bowl, which was empty now.

Under his breath, Will cursed. “I forgot to look for grass,” biting his lip, he hadn’t seen a gardening store anywhere nearby, most of the shops touristy enough that it wouldn’t be needed.

“I doubt very much anyone in Barbados has ever had need of grass,” Hannibal sighed, looking back at the green island through the boat windows as the puppy squatted and peed on the floor, as though on cue.

Will sighed and picked the dog up and took him out to the deck, to find a good spot to designate his toilet for the foreseeable future. He could at least just wash it off into the ocean every morning.

Hannibal sighed through his nose at the mess on the floor, and watched Will take the dog outside before he dropped one of the blood stained shirts over the mess, and pulled his gloves on again. When Will returned with the dog, Hannibal had decided to scrub the floor, and looked up at Will, frowning. “I thought, perhaps he had tracked in some dirt. It was thousands of dead fleas,” Hannibal said, as he cleaned the scrub brush in a bucket of steaming disinfectant, and began to scrub again, disgusted.

“I can do that,” Will insisted, putting the dog’s collar on him and shut the door so he wouldn’t get out on deck without them. He knelt near Hannibal. “You have a broken arm, I can do that.”

Hannibal looked over at Will as he knelt by his side, and seemed to debate trusting Will with the task before he handed over the brush. “I’m thankful for our limited square footage,” he sighed, and handed Will the gloves, then pressed a kiss to Will’s smooth jaw.

“We made a corner on deck his spot, we just have to take him there every so often to go,” Will said, taking the gloves and putting them on, and rolled up his sleeves to not dirty them, and started in on the spot Hannibal had been cleaning.

The pup toddled over to Hannibal and pawed at his boots, hopefully, as Hannibal observed him with clinical detachment. “Perhaps some behavioral training would be helpful.”

“I’ll do that too,” Will murmured, head down as he scrubbed, locks of curls dropping down into his face.

Hannibal watched Will for a second, memorizing the way he moved. The moustache made him look decidedly old-fashioned, as did scrubbing the floor. “You look as though torn from a painting of a heroic doctor battling a typhoid outbreak at the turn of the century with nothing but hygiene, and his good looks,” Hannibal chuckled, and touched Will’s hair, then began to unpack their many bags as the pup followed him around, at his ankles, no matter where he went.

“Glad to be… entertaining,” Will said, glancing up at Hannibal, a slight sweat forming on his brow as he worked hard to get the smell out of the floors.

Hannibal smiled again at Will as he put their food in a neat array in the tiny cupboards, organizing everything just so when he noticed the puppy at his side. “Are you hoping for more food?” he sighed.

“You’ve made a friend.” Will finally finished and shucked off the gloves and threw them into the sink with the brush. He wiped sweat from his brow. “He likes you.”

“He likes Ham,” Hannibal corrected, but crouched to allow the pup to sniff at his hand, out of curiosity. None of Will’s dogs had ever taken a shine to him before, they seemed rather indifferent, if anything.

“We’ll see who he sleep with tonight then,” Will said, going through his own clothes, which he hung in the small closet, sure Hannibal would yell at him if he put them in a drawer.

“I’m certain he is going to chose the dog-lover. Dogs are highly intuitive, they can tell the difference between being tolerated, and loved,” Hannibal said, but watched as Enzo licked at his fingers, wagging. It was puzzling, to be honest. Dogs had never liked Hannibal, even as a child. “I’m so certain that I’m willing to make a wager.”

Pausing, Will folded his arms over his chest and canted his head to the side, watching Hannibal and Enzo carefully. “A wager? What’s the bet?”

“If the pup sleeps with you, as I’ve predicted, you must pose for me and allow me to sketch you, in the nude, from life,” Hannibal said, with sparkling eyes.

Will let his gaze linger a little longer and the pair of them, Hannibal and Enzo, considering it, and nodded his head. “Alright. I’ll take that bet. And if he sleeps with you, we get another dog when we finally set up a home together.” Hannibal arched one eyebrow at that, and then nodded his head to agree as he rose to cut a little more meat from the smoked ham for the dog, trying to teach him to sit with it. Enzo just jumped up and took the meat, then ran away with it. “We have a deal,” Hannibal sighed.

“I'm taking your word on that,” Will replied with a smirk, hopefully right.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) blah blah the usual, not beta'd, but light edited, we could have missed things.  
> 2) again, we aren't sailors, so we could have some facts wrong, so.  
> 3) We are winding this down, they are well on their way to the happy ending, at least for now. One more part after this.

Before nightfall, the small yacht was once again on the ocean, headed south with a well-stocked pantry. While Will sailed them toward Argentina, Hannibal cooked, with Enzo’s full attention as the little stray waited and hoped for food to fall off of the counter to him.    
  
The little terrier followed Hannibal up to where Will was working at the helm, with a plate of dinner in hand for the captain. “May I interrupt you with some dinner?” Hannibal offered at the door. The smell of something decadent wafted in, toward Will.

“You may,” Will said, a glance over his shoulder as Hannibal entered, and then down at the dog who seemed far more interested in Hannibal than Will himself. “Your new helper?”

“I think Enzo is quite hopeful that I may drop your plate,” Hannibal said with a knowing look at the dog, who looked up at him with big, dark eyes, and wagged as he set Will’s plate and cutlery on a little smooth counter above a set of dials. “Are you able to come and eat at the table or still … “ Hannibal hesitated, unsure of the correct word for what Will was doing, “sailing?”

“We’re on a course, I can set it to coast if you’d prefer I eat at the table,” Will offered, grabbing his plate in case Hannibal wanted to move back into the cabin.

“One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, or work well if one has not dined well,” Hannibal said with a nod, and held the door open for Will with his cast arm after picking up his plate with the other. “Dining well is more than simply eating, of course.”

Will slipped out past Hannibal once setting controls to cruise for a bit, they should be just fine out here in the water, far from shore. “I suppose,” he said and walked back into the small cabin, where he set his fork and plate down at the tiny table, Enzo  at his feet.

Hannibal had changed, now dressed in a blue and rust colored shirt that Will had chosen for him, and a pair of the rugged pants to go with it that were the best fit of all of the items. Strangely enough, without high fashion, Hannibal’s natural beauty stood out even more dramatically, the unearthly sweep of his cheekbones and sensual lines of his lips looked more striking than ever when it was clear that he was not making an effort to look perfect, he was simply astoundingly beautiful, no matter what he wore.    
  
Hannibal opened a bottle of wine slowly, and poured a little in two glasses on the little table, then set a dish of cooked meat down for Enzo, whose dish had been placed on a neatly folded placemat near the table instead of in the corner of the tiny kitchen. “Hardly gourmet, but I managed to produce a decent beef bourguignon in our miniscule kitchen.”

Will was still wearing what he wore into town, only his sleeves were rolled to the elbow, the vest was undone, and he was barefoot now, which he rubbed up against the small dog and then sat forward to try his meal. “A good thing we won’t be using this kitchen forever.”

“A very good, thing, and we will not always be subjected to the skills of a one-handed chef,” Hannibal murmured as he sat down after Enzo pounced on his supper and devoured it, wagging the entire time. “Our kitchen in Argentina is beautiful, and spacious, as is the rest of the house. I could not resist having it decorated in stormy blues with hints of ochre,” Hannibal said, as he stared at Will’s eyes.

“Stormy blues?” Will asked, brows raised just slightly under his bands as he cut into his meal and took a bite, much hungrier than he thought he was, and much better than the fish they had for days.

“A wide range of blue from navy to nearly sea-green haunted by grey undertones, with gold accents for contrast,” Hannibal said, staring at Will as he ate. “I found myself somewhat obsessed with the palette.”

“I don’t think that’s the only thing you’re obsessed with,” Will pointed, but not accusingly, he was merely teasing as he ate another bite, and then sipped a little wine.

It had been a long, long time since he and Will had sat down to a decent meal together, alone. It felt as though they had never stopped, and they were back in Baltimore together. “I think it may be a symptom of a much larger obsession.”

“I couldn’t imagine what,” Will grinned, shifting his gaze over to Hannibal, hungry enough that he didn’t stop eating to converse, just talked around his eating, politely. “This is really good.”

“Thank you,” Hannibal said with a smile, and had a forkful, enjoying the layers of flavour in the meat and the sauce. “One can only live off of fish for so long.”

“To that, I agree,” Will murmured around another forkful with a content sigh. He continued to eat until the plate was left nearly cleaned of all food, and then sat back to enjoy the wine, gazing at Hannibal over the rim as he took a long sip.

Hannibal noticed Will gazing, and his dark eyes shone brightly and happily. “A shame we could not have brought anything back with us from my uncle’s ship. Beef is fine, but I would much rather have transformed Robertas into something better than he was, in the end. Alas.”

“It is a shame, but we were clocked for time,” Will sighed, swirling the last bit of wine in his glass around the edges of it. “I’m sure our new residence will hold many…  _ rude _ .”

Hannibal rose to take Will’s plate, and served him more of the decadent beef stew, since he had seemed so famished for it. Hannibal plated it just as beautifully as the first dish, then brought it back to Will, and refilled his wine. “There is not a country in the world that could not be improved by our madness,” Hannibal chuckled, and took his seat again, doting on Will openly. “You were magnificent, by the way. I’m not certain I’ve had a chance to tell you, but watching you drive a blade through Robertas’s throat was deeply satisfying.”

Will took a deep breath and forked at the beef on his dish, looking at Hannibal with sea blue eyes, the same colors he admitted obsessing over. “He had it coming. I had a feeling he had ill intent planned toward you.”

“He was the last relative with which I’ve had any contact,” Hannibal mused, “I’m certain I have a smattering of distant cousins in Eastern Europe, but I doubt I will ever meet any of them. My infamy has likely led them to deny any relation at all. I am, for all intents and purposes, the last Lecter.”

“You hardly seem upset,” Will mused right back, a smile gracing his face as he shoved more food into his mouth. “So, no more unexpected relatives are going to come knocking on our door?”

Hannibal laughed at the question, and shook his head. “No, certainly not, but our brush with Robertas has bent my mind toward the past, toward my family,” Hannibal murmured, and took a sip of wine, then looked at Will. He never discussed his family with anyone. If Hannibal was asked about them, he politely changed the topic, but Will was his family now, regardless of whether or not they had a child. “My father would have liked you, I think.”

“Why is that?” Will asked with a soft chuckle, finally feeling full, he set his plate aside, he’d wash it later. Will’s own family woes weren’t quite as sad, but he hardly had many to consider as it were.

“He was a practical man, he loved to be outdoors, he enjoyed the hunt. My own lack of enthusiasm for a world beyond my harpsichord and sketch book was a source of embarrassment, for him,” Hannibal chuckled.

“You must get that from your mother then?” Will could only assume, but he also saw Hannibal’s mother as a elegant and regal sort, even with knowing nothing about her.

“Very much,” Hannibal admitted, and sipped his wine. “I could tell you enjoyed seeing my childhood photos, a shame I cannot see yours. You must have been adorable.”

“My father has them somewhere. Very hard to get to now that we’re ‘dead’,” Will said with a sigh. He’d not talked to his father in years, it was stone better left unturned.

“I’m sure Freddie Lounds has offered a handsome sum for them,” Hannibal chuckled, as happy in the tiny boat on the sea as he could have been with Will anywhere in the world. It was heavenly: them, and only them, together. Waiting behind glass, housed like a rare animal in a zoo for three years was well worth this. “Are you anxious to see the news from The States, Will? I’m rather intrigued…”

“Not really,” Will sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to anything that might be said about him, especially if Freddie Lounds had gotten ahold of his father.

“You’ve never wondered how those in your life might react to your death? I thought it was a common fantasy, imagining a world in the wake of one’s mortality,” Hannibal murmured, and took both of their plates to the sink.

“I hope with enough grief and pain to move on and forget about me,” Will said honestly, finally standing to take their plates to the sink to wash.

“I cannot imagine Jack has managed to hang on to his position at the FBI after our escape,” Hannibal mused, and busied himself with arranging dessert by warming slices of peach in a pan while Will did the dishes. The kitchen was so tiny that Hannibal’s side was pressed against Will’s moving back while he washed. 

“He doesn’t deserve that job. Jack’s smart, but letting you go, even to fake an escape, was career suicide,” Will sighed, shaking his head as he washed their plates and set them to dry, his butt bumping into Hannibal’s hip every now and then as he moved.

Hannibal turned the heating fruit after sprinkling dark sugar over it and adding a few already cooked strips of bacon to the pan, and looked over at Will with a little smirk at the feeling of Will so close. “I’m also certain Alana’s abandoned her post with alacrity.”

“She took off the second I mentioned the plan. She was smarter than Jack was about us, she knew, to an extent.” Will dried the plates and forks, and then set about washing the pan.

“Much smarter than Jack. I have a promise to uphold, with respect to Alana,” Hannibal said, and began to plate the dessert, three pieces of warmed, caramelized peach on a plate, each, wrapped in bacon with a light dusting of brown sugar and a basil leaf perched on each one.

Will finished the pot and set it aside, turning to face Hannibal. “A promise?”

Hannibal set the desserts on the table, and walked back to Will, wrapping both arms around him from behind, chin on his shoulder. “The evening I left for Florence, Alana chose to attempt to stop me with a gun. I gave her a chance to leave, but warned her that if she stayed, I would kill her.”

Shivering a little at the memory, Will leaned back into Hannibal, the image of Alana on the ground with shattered window pane around her was still vivid. She hadn’t listened though. “Who pushed Alana from the window?” He’d assumed Hannibal, but now he was doubting.

Hannibal held Will a little more tightly, and pressed a kiss against the side of his throat. “Abigail,” he answered, simply. “We had not discussed it before. She decided it was what had to happen.”

That… surprised Will a little, and he let the thought settle in him, for now. After all, he wasn’t any better than she was, was he? He hummed and turned to kiss Hannibal on the lips quickly, and then sat at the table, nothing more said about that.

Hannibal sat opposite Will after pouring wine for them both, and observed his silence. “Surprised at her aptitude for violence and deception? I don’t think Abigail was ever fond of Alana.”

“Surprised is one word for it,” Will said, quietly, and sipped the wine first, looking at the fruit a moment more before he slipped his spoon in to cut it.

“Disappointed? I’m aware that you had an idealized concept of Abigail; your exquisite imagination projected the daughter you wanted onto her, perhaps smoothing over the truth…” Hannibal took a bite of the warmed peach, able to taste the bourbon in which he had soaked the pieces, first.

Silently, Will ate his dessert, slowly considering this new information, wondering just how much of it he  _ had _ in fact gotten wrong. Chewing the peach, he nodded. “Perhaps.”

“Someday, in the future, should an opportunity present itself, might you consider having a child with me?” Hannibal asked, and seemed to forget to breathe as he waited for Will to reply.

Bringing another piece to his lips, Will paused to watch Hannibal carefully, to see if there was mirth in his eyes, but all he saw was the serious anticipation of Hannibal starting back at him. “A child? A-a baby?”

“A child of our own, yes,” Hannibal said, calmly, and looked at his wine as he did when his emotions rose too high for the floodgates of his elegant mind to contain. “Unless that is something you would never want, with me.” 

Will had wanted it with Molly, after all.

Will had wanted normal-- _ simplicity _ . A family came ready made for him, and he cookie-cuttered himself into their pretty little life. That was unfortunate for them, that Will had used them like that, and he only hoped somewhere Molly was could get over this, too.

Sighing, Will set his spoon down and folded his hands in front of him, elbows to the table, seriously. “I’m not opposed. Where would we get a child?”

Hannibal looked up at Will, and realized Will was at least partially open to the idea. “There are many avenues, particularly in South America. We could adopt, privately. Surrogacy is another alternative to consider,” Hannibal mused, seriously, and realized his heart was pounding high and fast in his throat to speak of this aloud to Will, and to realize Will was listening, even skeptically.

“Who would we trust enough to surrogate a baby?” Will asked, his dessert pushed aside for now, the topic too serious to broach with food in his mouth. “Adoption sounds… feasible.”

“Alana owes me a death. Perhaps she would be willing to renegotiate a death for a life,” Hannibal reasoned. “If she helped us have a child, I would allow her to continue her life with her own.”

Will grimaced at that, jealousy seeping through his worn and withering look. “A little partial Bloom running around our house?”

Hannibal laughed at the thought, and sipped his wine as he watched Will. “I’m certain we can find an alternative that we can agree on, perhaps a surrogate as arranged by a reputable agency?”

“So long as it’s your genes and not mine,” Will said, very much aware that he didn’t want to pass down what his own parents had likely given him to another child.

“You speak of yourself as though you are an abomination, and not a masterpiece,” Hannibal said, seriously. “I would be quite happy to have a child with your genes, Will. Ideally, with  _ our _ genes.”

“We’ll see.” Will wasn’t sure they’d ever get to that point. They’d just recently come into terms with each other, romantically, he didn’t want to rush into anything else he’d made mistakes with in the past.

“Perhaps by that time, science will have caught up with the new permutations families are allowed to take,” Hannibal mused, able to hear a note of doubt in Will’s voice, like Will was looking at a bridge Hannibal designed, uncertain if it would hold them.

Will wanted time to embrace their relationship and build stable grounds for it, enforce it, before adding another, fragile life to the mix. “Maybe…”

Hannibal had longer with the fantasy in his head that Will was so new to. He reminded himself that he had to wait for Will to let it grow in his head, to let the dark, beautiful thing between them take root and assure him of it’s permanence. “We shall cross that bridge if, and when we arrive at it,” Hannibal said, taking a step back, mentally, from his fantasy.

Hardly young, but not yet too old, Will knew time was limited, but he didn’t want their precious new life to be turned upside down just yet, even if the idea of a child -- a baby -- was honestly something he’d wanted once, for a while, but never thought was something he could have, or achieve. “Once we’ve settled.”

“Once we’ve settled, yes. I do hate the thought of settling for anything, however, for either of us,” Hannibal nodded, and did his best to stave off a creeping feeling of rejection. Will married into fatherhood, after all, he obviously liked the idea. Hannibal felt a little weight and warmth across his shoes, and he looked down to find Enzo laying over his feet, almost to console him.

Will sighed, he could tell Hannibal was not rested with the idea, and taking offense where he meant none. “Is it wrong of me to selfishly want time with you before we add to our family?” he asked,  sipping his wine.

“Is that why you’re hesitant?” Hannibal asked, his coal-dark eyes rising to meet Will’s smoky blues. That’s how they were: two parts of the same terrible, beautiful fire. Hannibal was the smouldering coals, Will was smoke, and between them, flame.

“I’d like to establish  _ us _ before we establish more,” Will reiterated. “We’ve been apart three years. I don’t want to rush into a family, call me selfish if you want.”

“You know very well that’s far from selfish,” Hannibal murmured, and smiled a little, ruefully, at his own impatience. “I have lived so long with us in my mind, versions of us to whom I would escape, to lose myself, that I must remind myself we are only recently reunited. I meant what I said when you came to see me again after so long Will; you are family.”

Will nodded slowly, and then got up to clear their desserts dishes and wash them, once more. “A little patience with me, as I have not lived in your mind palace with you.”

Hannibal dislodged the pup from where he slept on his toes, walked over to Will, and embraced him from behind to kiss the back of his neck. “You have, for the simple reason that I needed you there,” Hannibal confessed in a low whisper.

“In your mind, maybe, but I’m physically here now,” Will reminded Hannibal, leaning back against the other man as he washed more dishes, happy for the contact. They could easily hurt each other with words, but they were slowly growing used to the idea of physical intimacy being the thing to calm them when words went awry.

Words, to two very intelligent minds, could hold layers of meaning, sharp edges that were not intended. Touch was a more primal and unmistakable means of communicating. “We have time,” Hannibal whispered, and undid one button on Will’s white shirt with his good hand.

Will took a deep breath, the motion of fingers flicking a button undone was not lost to him. A sly smile crept over his features as he set cleans bowl to dry upside down on the counter. “How much?” he asked, quietly.

“Decades,” Hannibal whispered in Will’s ear, his breath warming the fragile shell of Will’s adorable ear before Hannibal’s infamous teeth pinched the velvety lobe.

Will smiled at that, and tipping his head just so into the bite. “I can’t wait.”

“Time seems to pass too rapidly when I am with you,” Hannibal admitted, “never had an hour turned into two so quickly as when you began to come into my office.”

Turning, Will wrapped damp arms and hands around Hannibal’s shoulders, and kissed him on the mouth softly. “And now we can spend the rest of those fleeting hours together.”

Hannibal pinned Will’s hips against the kitchen counter, and looked into his eyes between slow kisses. “You’re certain you could tolerate me for that long? For the rest of your life, perhaps?”

“Death do us part?” Will countered, feeling how much stronger Hannibal was becoming by the day, his wounds healing perfectly.

Hannibal swallowed hard, and felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest, and a flush start to spread up the length of his neck to reach the flush across the arch of his high cheekbones. “I have, in my mind, been married to you for a very long time already, Will,” Hannibal whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. He held on to Will, as though to steady himself, as he had on the cliffside. “I would die with you, and for you in a heartbeat with the devotion of a stray whom you saved. Nothing would make me more proud, or more overjoyed than to be wed to you, not only in the dark and newly grown labyrinth of my heart, but in the eyes of the world.” A tear streaked over Hannibal hot cheek, one he could not stop. Will did this to him.

Will wiped the tear off Hannibal’s cheek with his thumb, and then sucked it off, “Do you want to marry me? Not just in your mind palace, for real?” Will could feel his own heart hammering away, faster and faster, unaware this was what he had wanted for so long.

Will was proposing.

Every room in the grand castle of Hannibal Lecter’s spectacular mind shook with the force of the realization, and even the air stood still between them. Hannibal felt himself unable to breathe for a moment, crushed with the reality that Will Graham just asked for his hand in marriage. 

It was as great and surprising for Hannibal’s heart as the scent of Freddie’s cheap perfume on Will’s shoulder had been, as profound in magnitude, as life-changing as that terrible moment that felt so much like a disemboweling, but instead of betrayal, Hannibal felt  _ joy _ rush through him. He gasped for a second, without breath. Hannibal’s voice stalled in his throat, until a single word escaped from the tangle of frantic agreement of all the languages he could speak. “ _ Yes _ ,” he said, raggedly. 

Hannibal kissed Will hard, their mouths colliding as he trembled so much that he could barely hang onto Will. He laughed, strangely enough, the sound bubbling against Will’s lips with more tears, and then a deeper, probing kiss.

Will held Hannibal close, hands at his back now, holding him up, kissing him heatedly as Hannibal agreed to the very thing Freddie Lounds called them years ago. “Murder husbands after all?” he teased, still holding tightly.

“Yes,” Hannibal breathed, between overjoyed kisses, one hand curled in Will’s shirt, then his hair as his heart hammered in his chest like the hooves of a running stag. “Yes, of course, yes, Will-” Hannibal managed, most of the words lost against Will’s mouth.

“Good,” Will said definitively,  but he smiled against Hannibal’s mouth, breathless from just the thought, and then kissed Hannibal harder, sealing their fates to one another.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) same stuff as always.  
> 2) this is the end folks. maybe we'll do a sequel? y/n?

It took almost five weeks, given they stopped at various ports,  paused to eat together, and let Will sleep long enough to continue to sail. They were in no rush, and no hurry, so they sailed at a leisurely pace. They docked in Argentina, at  Port Galván , and from there with all their things packed, the boat safely secured, they took a taxi to the home Hannibal had purchased years ago for them, this time with a new makeshift family, completed by Enzo.

The home Hannibal had purchased, years ago, looked more impressive than he remembered. It was built from cream coloured stone, and bold, poppy-coloured stucco that contrasted with each other and the lush greenery around it, beautifully. The house was two stories, and laced with ornate white masonry and wrought-iron that gave the isolated house a fairy tale look. The villa backed onto a breathtaking rocky beach, and a long dock stretched out into the ocean, perfect for a fisherman.

Hannibal watched Will’s reaction as they pulled up to the house, eager to see what he thought of their carefully chosen hideaway. It was bigger than Will thought it could be, but smaller than what he assumed Hannibal would buy, and perfectly suited for them. Will got out, pulling some of their bags with them, Enzo barking as he ran forward. It was even big enough for that second dog Hannibal owed him from their wager weeks ago. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is fully furnished, but everything is covered in dust cloths at the moment, of course,” Hannibal said as he went to a set of rocks in the overgrown, but beautiful garden, and took a key from it’s hiding place in a small box beneath one of them, then handed it to Will. “Would you like the honor of unlocking our front door for the first time?”

Will took the key, even with his arms full of bags of their things, and managed up the steps to the house. He pushed the key in the lock and hip-checked the door open with a small creak. Enzo ran inside, barking wildly.

Hannibal took a few things from Will, healed up enough now that he was ready to remove his cast once they were settled. The house on the inside was serene and elegant, decorated with shades of ocean blue and stormy grey with walnut floors and a tremendous stone fireplace that went from floor to ceiling in the living room. “Four bedrooms, three bathrooms. We will have all the space we require for years to come.”

Including the child that Will was warming up to the idea of. He set everything down in the hallway arch, hands on his hips as he looked around. They were both healed enough now, no longer impaired too much. “Hopefully forever.”

Hannibal pulled a cover off of a large, ochre yellow velvet sofa that contrasted sharply with the river blue walls of the living room, and set their bags on it, then shooed Enzo off of the cushion he jumped onto, immediately.

“We may need to rely on the fireplaces for warmth and cooking until our electric is hooked up. Hopefully, that will not take too long,” Hannibal said, and looked back at Will. “I think you may be interested in the back yard.”

“We’ve been living with worse,” Will pointed out, and wandered to the arched, very spanish-looking wooden back door, that lead out to the vast backyard.

The backyard featured an outdoor kitchen with a large stone table beneath a wooden trellis covered in vines. Beyond that, the ocean and large dock. “You can have a morning coffee here with me, and spend the morning at the end of the dock, fishing to your heart’s content.”

Will smiled a little, opening the door out to the backyard, Enzo running out ahead of him. “Lots of space for the  _ dogs, _ too.” A sly grin worked it’s way across Will’s features as he looked over his shoulder at Hannibal before slipping out into the yard.

The yard was definitely for Will. It was rugged and wild looking with a beautiful view of the ocean, and tall grass that swayed in the breeze, spotted with little white flowers. Enzo ran around, and ripped a  flower from the earth, then ran back to Hannibal to sit nicely and offer the flower to him. Hannibal scooped Enzo up and took the wildflower, holding the dog he’d become used to, and even fond of over the last few weeks. “ _ Two _ dogs. Enzo shall have to teach the new one some manners, of course.”

“I think Enzo still needs a little training,” Will chuckled, but now that they had a yard, it wouldn’t be too difficult to get that done. A boat was hardly a place to serve as grounds to training a pet.

Enzo rested his head on Hannibal’s shoulder and gazed up at him, adoringly, as Hannibal petted his well-brushed fur. “He’s done quite well for a homeless dog who has had to become accustomed to life at sea,” Hannibal admitted. Enzo was not happy if Hannibal was not happy, and the scruffy little thing refused to leave his side. No matter how many times Hannibal put Enzo in his dog bed at night, he always ended up tucked behind Hannibal’s bent knees in the morning.

“He has, but now we have to teach him to go outside to do his business,” Will chuckled, “Like on the grass, and not the deck.” He gestured to the nice stained wood deck, not wanting to ruin that.

“He’s remarkably clever, for a dog,” Hannibal said with guarded affection as he pocketed the little flower, and let Enzo look at the new land from the safety of his good arm. “Before we unpack, would you be good enough to help me remove my cast?”

Will nodded, hands in his pockets as he enjoyed the view, a seaside with years to come of good times-- he could just tell. He put his hand at the small of Hannibal’s back and lead him back inside. “What can I remove it with?”

“A saw, I imagine the boat must have one, and we took everything off of the boat, did we not?” Hannibal said casually, and walked back into the house with Will. “Chiyoh had the foresight to bring medical equipment. It’s possible that she brought a saw of some sort as well,” he reasoned.

“Yes,” Will said, rummaging through their bags that were now splayed over the foyer and the living room, sure that he had packed all the tools into one of the bags. Sure enough, he bound a battery operated power saw, though old, it would work well. Will put the marble cutting board out for Hannibal’s arm, on the kitchen island.

Hannibal set Enzo down, and stopped to look at the sight of Will in the kitchen with a saw in hand, then smirked to himself as he walked over to his fiance, able to appreciate the irony. “This feels strangely familiar,” he said, as he laid his arm over the cutting board.

“Does it?” Will asked, coyly. “I haven’t drugged you or tied you to a chair yet.” He moved Hannibal’s arm so his palm faced down and turned the saw on, moving around the front of the counter to cut a straight line from wrist to elbow on the cast, slowly.

Hannibal gave his fiance a look as he kept his palm on the marble slab, fingers splayed. “If it would complete the emotional circle for you, Will , I would be willing to subject myself to the same circumstances,” Hannibal offered, with a romantic expression.

Will gave Hannibal a quick look as the blade dug into the plaster holding it all together, and slowly, he worked the saw through the length, splitting it right in half. Will turned the saw off and blew on the remaining dusty pieces, then pulled it off of his husband to be. “Not necessary.”

Sure enough, Will was precise enough with a saw that he hadn’t cut Hannibal’s skin at all. Hannibal helped Will pull the cast off, and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the neglected skin on his arm. He turned the sink on, and washed his arm well, sloughing the dead skin off with his hand, and down the drain, then flexed his hand slowly, and used it to turn off the faucet. “My handyman,” Hannibal smirked, and leaned over to kiss Will, thrilled by him whenever he pulled out tools to repair even the smallest thing on the boat. It was alluring and rugged in a way that even the former psychiatrist struggled to explain.

Will assumed it was even more alluring for Hannibal to see him dressed up and being handy. As he was now. Will rolled his sleeves up and kissed Hannibal back slowly, touching his now free arm with his hand. “How’s it feel?”

“Free,” Hannibal whispered, now quite used to the feeling of Will’s moustache when he kissed him. He closed both hands in Will’s grey vest, and pulled him closer, his glasses fogging when Will kissed him in return.

“I imagine you can do quite a bit more now…” Will whispered suggestively, nimble, calloused fingers working the buttons of Hannibal’s plaid shirt undone as their lips pressed and brushed together in turns.

Hannibal’s hand began to undo Will’s vest, then his blue tie that matched his eyes perfectly, and he nipped at Will’s clean-shaven jaw that smelled ever-so-faintly of a cologne Hannibal purchased for his fiance in Columbia: it was woodsy with just the right balance of musk and freshness. It was as perfect as it could be for Will without being a custom blend. “I may require practice, it’s been some time…”

“As much as you need,” Will whispered, head canted just so to the side as Hannibal worked his clothes off. Will pushed Hannibal’s shirt off his broad shoulders, to his elbows and tugged him closer by it. “For as long as you need.”

“How generous of you,” Hannibal whispered as he kissed the side of Will’s neck, then bit his throat, slowly, scraping his teeth over the pale flesh with a deep sigh. He tugged Will’s vest off, and tossed it onto the bare counter, then began to walk Will back to the living room, toward the staircase. “Our bedroom is upstairs, would you like to see it?”

“Yes, I would,” Will said, assuredly, but his steps backwards were quick as they made their way to the stairs. Will worked Hannibal’s pants undone, tugging at them as they ascended, their mouths never once parting for more than a second.

Hannibal let his pants fall to the ground and stepped out of them, shedding his disguise like a snake writhing out of his skin as he climbed the stairs to the second floor with Will, no cast in the way anymore. He pushed Will’s shirt off, his pants too, eager to get them skin to skin by the time they pushed their way into the master bedroom for the first time as they should be: naked, and wrapped up in each other. 

Clothes were dropped all the way to the bedroom, until the doors were pushed open and Will was stumbling back onto the bed, pulling Hannibal over him, kissing him passionately. He wrapped long legs around him, kissing down his scruffy jaw. “You can show me the rest of the bedroom later…”

They didn’t look at the beautifully dark navy blue walls, or the designer Hermes wallpaper along the small ante-chamber to the bedroom, there was simply no time for that now. Will’s heated skin was pressed against his own, and every other kind of decadence paled in comparison. “Gladly,” Hannibal whispered, and laid over Will, pinning him with both elbows against Will’s shoulders, his hands lost in Will’s curls where they twisted and tugged so that Will’s head bent back and Hannibal bit Will’s exposed throat.

Breath caught in his throat, Will felt a whine escape him, but begged for more of it as he tugged on Hannibal’s hair, and then palmed his fist down it, keeping him just there against his pulse. He rutted his already hard cock against Hannibal’s bare hip, no longer having to be careful.

Hannibal moaned at the way Will ground against him, and lapped at the tiny beads of blood his teeth drew from Will’s neck, a mark that would linger at least a week, hovering under the collars of Will’s dapper shirts. “Have you been holding back with me, Will?” Hannibal whispered as he reached down with his newly free hand, and squeezed Will’s cock with it.

“I have been careful of your gunshot wound,” Will sighed out, pleased as every inch of him felt set on fire, every touch of skin was like setting a new blaze against his skin, Hannibal feeding it, over and over.

Fire flickered through both of them, scarlet and gold flickers that danced in their eyes and under their skin, along their nerves as Hannibal slipped the fingers of his healed hand into Will’s mouth, then watched him suck. “No need to be careful with me now, Will, we’re both quite whole.”

“I wasn’t planning-” but Will’s words were cut off as he sucked Hannibal’s fingers, groaning a little as he knew very well by now where those fingers would find their place. Will spread himself out for Hannibal, greedily.

“You already know, don’t you? I slip my fingers past those beautiful lips and you spread,” Hannibal whispered in Will’s ear, biting at the lobe as he curled his fingers against Will’s tongue, and pulled them out, then dragged them down Will’s chest, over his scarred stomach to brush over the hot inside of Will’s thighs, and then inside him, smoothly.

“How could I not?” Will gasped, still a surprise every time Hannibal did it, but never one that hurt, always given with pleasure, making Will’s thighs spread further, his hips cant up to take more of Hannibal’s fingers. Breathlessly, Will groaned; “More.”

“What a wanton boy you’ve become, Will,” Hannibal whispered, and twisted his fingers with deliberate finesse, manipulating Will’s prostate, playing it as beautifully as he played any instrument, opening Will to make him moan and  _ sing _ .    
  
Now that he had two hands free, Hannibal could watch Will’s reaction as he worked him up with one hand, and then slapped his bare ass with his free palm, hard enough to make a crisp sound of flesh on flesh in the warm bedroom air.

Will moaned with that, heels into the mattress now as he tried to roll his hips into Hannibal’s touch, his fingers, anything he could get, wound up like a toy, strung to the very edge of snapping. “Hannibal, please-”

Hannibal smiled, spellbound by Will’s desire for the sting of his hand, and rubbed the beautiful blush where his palm had been on Will’s ass cheek. “Please, what, Will?” Hannibal whispered, shaking from the effort of teasing his fiance a little longer as he dragged his nails over the slapped skin.

Will flushed harder at being told to verbalize his wants, and he gave Hannibal a look for it, then dragged him in for a kiss with one hand instead, heated and slow, still grinding his hips down over fingers, feeling the spike of lust course through him with each pass against his sensitive nerves there.

That look was worth a million words. Hannibal kissed Will hard, deep, and sucked his tongue slowly as he pulled his fingers from Will’s body, slowly, and crawled up Will’s scarred body. Both of them matched in the pink and white lines of broken places that punctuated their skin. “Wet me,” Hannibal whispered, against Will’s mouth, then kissed his temple, his forehead, his ear.

Groaning, Will pushed Hannibal over and crawled over him, pinning him to the bed, and then slithered back down his body, Will’s shoulders pushing Hannibal’s legs up as he settled between his muscular thighs. Will pressed a kiss to Hannibal’s hip and then lathed his tongue over his cock, slowly, eyes never leaving Hannibal’s.

Hannibal moaned, and let his head drop back, adam’s apple bobbing in his long throat as he gasped a breath and stared at Will through amber eyelashes. “Beautiful,” he whispered, tangling his hand in Will’s hair, hips arching as his ass flexed.

Over the last weeks, Will had become increasingly better at doing this, tongue lathing and mouth sucking in turns over Hannibal’s cock. He rolled Hannibal’s balls in his palm, and then tugged sharply on them, as he wet him completely. He watched Hannibal, enjoying the way his eyes would roll to the back of his head with ecstasy every time he did this.

“Will-” Hannibal breathed, gasping at the tug to his balls that almost made him climax right there and then, chest heaving as he watched Will, mumbled breathlessly in Lithuanian before he pulled Will off of his cock with shaking hands and pulled him into his lap, roughly, guiding him down over his cock.

Will's jaw went slack, pressing his himself down over Hannibal, no need for prepping, they'd done enough of this now that he easily took Hannibal's length, slicked and wet. “God-” he pressed his hands over Hannibal's chest, starting to ride him.

Hannibal groaned and planted his heels into the bed so that he could thrust up into Will, breathless and sweating hard as his hips slapped Will’s ass, which only spurred Will on, using his powerful legs to hoist himself up and down over Hannibal’s cock, starting to sweat already.

“Will-” Hannibal gasped, overwhelmed by Will’s body, by his beauty. He gripped Will’s hips and drove him down, over his cock.

Heat pool quickly in his lower back, Will’s head lolled back on his neck as he gasped and groaned, fingers gripping the thick chest hair against Hannibal’s chest as the other man’s hips slapped against his ass with each pass, sending Will closer and closer to the edge.

The feeling of Will tugging his chest hair was incredible, needy and primal as Hannibal screwed Will so hard that his hips began to sting and burn, but he didn’t want to stop. “Fuck-” he gasped, a rare curse escaping Hannibal’s refined lips.

The curse off Hannibal’s lips brought Will right to the edge, spilling and groaning, flickers of heat coursing through his veins as his hips moved on their own accord, fucking himself to completion on Hannibal’s cock, spilling over his belly.

Hannibal joined his fiance, coming inside Will’s body as he clutched Will’s sweaty, flexing thighs and buried himself deep inside him. Everything went white, and when Hannibal opened his eyes again, he was clinging to Will with both arms around Will’s torso, shaking. “Three other bedrooms to christen,” Hannibal whispered.

Will chuckled, breathlessly, and rolled off Hannibal and to the side, lying there with one hand on his chest, smiling over at his husband to be. “Let’s get on that.”

 


End file.
